


They Call Him Cowboy

by GodsHumbleClown



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Autistic David, Autistic David Jacobs, Child Abuse, Dogs, Horses, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Modern AU, Probably will include, because i am autistic and i like to project, boots for president 2020, i dare u all to include boots, jack lives on a farm, les likes rabbits, sarah is our queen, the jacobses have sheep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2020-07-30
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:54:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 24,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24014770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GodsHumbleClown/pseuds/GodsHumbleClown
Summary: In which...-Jack Kelly wants to get out. Out of this town and away to anywhere else.-Racetrack Higgins wants the boy he loves to notice him.-David Jacobs is often confused.-GodsHumbleClown doesnt know what farming is like at all, so dont judge her. She knows the basics, loves to garden, and will Google everything else.This fic has nothing to do with my Spot ones with the long titles, and will probably focus more on other characters so I dont exhaust my Spot Ideas that I want to use in my other (favorite [dont tell this one]) fic.TW for mentions of abuse, will add any other warnings or tags as I figure out where the heck this story is headed.
Relationships: Crutchie/Finch (Newsies), David Jacobs/Jack Kelly
Comments: 41
Kudos: 91





	1. Titles? What are Titles? Its midnight and I dont care.

Jack woke up before the sun, like he did every day. The first day of the new semester, and he had a few hours to get his morning chores done before he had to leave for school. 

Jack stretched and got up to change. He threw on some work clothes, jeans and a t-shirt, and grabbed an apple on the way out the door. That was one thing that was good about living here; Mr. Snyder didn’t care if Jack just took food and ate it. That was basically the only good thing about living here. That and the animals. 

Jack always made sure to be the first one up in the morning; no small feat, considering Mr. Snyder woke up at 5:30 every day. It was worth it to be able to get ready and out the door without having to talk to his foster father. Jack always somehow ended up in trouble if they talked. 

There wasn’t really much Mr. Snyder trusted Jack to do in the mornings, so Jack mostly just made sure the animals near the house, like the horses, chickens, and dogs, were fed and clean. Why Snyder was fine with Jack working later in the day was a complete mystery to him, and one he wasn’t stupid enough to question. 

Since apparently he was incompetant and couldn’t be trusted with “real work” at seven AM without supervision, Jack finished his work with time to spare. Thankfully, Snyder wasn’t in the house when he got back, so he was able to shower and get ready for school in peace. 

As he let the hot water wash away the dirt and sweat, Jack wondered if he should be nervous about the upcoming semester. 

He really wasn't. Junior year was supposedly difficult, but Jack usually did fine in all his classes, so why should this year be any different?

He was definitely excited to see his friends though. Mr. Snyder wasn't a big fan of the whole socializing outside of school thing, so Jack hadn't seen Race, Crutchie, or any of his other friends since school got out in May. 

Jack pulled on his cleanest clothes, jeans and a plaid button up over a t-shirt, and grabbed his backpack. The bus only came to the end of the road, so Jack headed off early. It was about a ten minute walk down their long driveway and down the street, so he grabbed another apple to eat on the way. 

Jack nodded to Spot Conlon, who also waited for the bus at the end of the road, but they didn’t talk. The short, stocky boy looked like he always did; bored.

He did look up once, which was unusual for Spot. He glanced up from his phone to stare curiously at a blue truck that drove past. That was certainly odd. Spot didn’t usually show much interest in things.

Well, Jack would have to think about that later. The bus was here, and he had people to talk to and things to do. 

○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●

In a small town like this, everybody knew everybody in the school. That was why it was so obvious when not one, but two new students were in Jack's homeroom that morning. 

A boy and a girl, they looked to be siblings, and they were assigned to Jack's table, meaning their alphabetical closeness pushed Mush and Crutchie to the next table over. That was unfortunate. 

Well, being temporarily separated from his old friends was an opportunity to make new ones, Jack supposed. 

Jack flopped into his chair with what he hoped was a friendly, welcoming smile. 

"Hey. I'm Jack, Jack Kelly. You guys new here?"

The girl smiled and offered her hand, which Jack shook. 

"I'm Sarah Jacobs, and this is David."

David looked extremely uncomfortable. Probably didn't like meeting strangers. Jack could relate. 

"We just moved here from Colorado," David explained, fiddling nervously with the zipper on his bag. 

"Well, if ya need anything, I'd be glad to show you around." Jack gave David his best smile, which the boy almost half returned. 

Racetrack Higgins, sole trombonist for the jazz band and professional irritant of teachers everywhere, chose that moment to flop into an empty chair with a dramatic groan. He leaned pathetically, half-draping himself into Jack's lap. 

"Jacky, what am I supposed to do? He still doesn't notice me!" Jack laughed, shoving Racetrack away playfully. Like usual, Racetrack didn’t care that he hadn’t seen Jack in months. He always fell right back into their old rhythm, and Jack loved him for it. 

"Hey, Racer. Meet the new kids, Sarah and David." Sarah smiled, and David gave an awkward little wave.

"David, Sarah, this is Racetrack. Supposedly he's a genius, but he's the dumbest genius you're ever gonna meet. Skipped a full grade and still doesn't know how to take a hint that a guy isn't interested."

"You mock my plight!" Racetrack gasped. 

"I tried to talk to him today, and he asked if we knew each other! We've been in the same school since kindergarten, and he doesn't even know who I am!" 

"Who are you pining for?" The girl, Sarah, asked curiously. 

"Spot Conlon. He's a freshman, so two grades below us, and Racer thinks he's in love with the guy," Jack explained.

"I  _ am  _ in love," Racetrack insisted, as he had every year since seventh grade. When Racetrack crushed, he crushed hard, and it did not go away. 

David looked interested now. "You're gay?" 

"David! You can't just say it like that!" Sarah chided, shoving her brother playfully. 

Racetrack waved off Sarah's protest with a good-natured smile. 

"Yep. I'm a rainboy. Get it?" He grinned. "Rainbow boy, rainboy?" David gave a half smile at that really quite awful joke. He'd probably get along just fine with all of Jack's friends if he liked awful jokes. 

Racetrack leaned back a bit too far then, and his chair flipped over with a crash. Mr. Kloppman, normally an English teacher, but also their homeroom advisor, chose that moment to enter the class. Probably because he wasn't completely deaf and could hear 130 pounds of teenager hitting the floor. 

"Anthony Higgins," he said sternly. "Aren't you meant to be in Mr. Weisel's homeroom?" 

Racetrack gave the man his most winning smile, completely ignoring the fact that he was flat on his back. 

"Mr. K, I like your class way better than his." 

Mr. Kloppman, bless the man, gave Racetrack a patient smile. 

"Well, Anthony, as much as I enjoy having you here, it's really not good to be late on the very first day, is it? Move along now."

Racetrack saluted the man playfully and hopped to his feet, leaving the chair lying on the floor. David picked it up, and Jack felt an extra surge of respect, seeing as he could have just let Mr. Kloppman do it. Or maybe this David guy was just a suck up. 

"Alright, boys and girls. It's the start of another year, and I'm sure you'll make it a great one. Now then-"

Jack let himself zone out then. He liked Mr. Kloppman, really, he did. The man was always good natured and fun. Well, fun for a teacher, that is. But that didn't mean Jack cared about the new changes to the dress code or whatever else Mr. K was required to tell them about. 

No, what Jack cared about was surviving this school year, and getting one step closer to graduating, to getting out of this town, away from Snyder and everybody else.

For good. 


	2. The Rainboy (David)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW for some implied ableism. 
> 
> I'm gonna explain a bit, cause I dont want anyone to be hurt or offended or confused, so if you just wanna read the chapter, feel free to skip this short essay lol.
> 
> I am writing from my experience of being autistic, but I am also imagining David has not been properly diagnosed and does not have the same kind of understanding family that I do, so of course, he is going to struggle a lot.
> 
> Some of his thoughts/self image issues are thoughts that I have had, and I know they can be triggering to people who have felt similar ways, so please be careful. 
> 
> I do not mean to imply in any way that being autistic makes me or anyone else broken, wrong, or in any way less than anyone else. This is my interpretation of David struggling with his condition in the same way I and I am sure many others have. 
> 
> Similarly to my Spot fics, this is me dealing with something I struggle with in a way that is easier for me to talk about. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy reading ♡

David Jacobs had always been a worrier. He worried about their old farm and everything on it, and he worried about his brother’s dozen pet rabbits, and he worried about his frail widowed grandmother, his Bubbe, who only last week lived a five hour drive away. David worried about the Jacobs family sheep, and if they’d be okay on said five hour drive when the entire family had moved to be closer to his frail widowed grandmother. 

Now, he had a new farm to worry about, the rabbits had their own corner of the barn and were much safer than in the little shed back home, they lived with his Bubbe now, so he didn’t have to worry about her, and the sheep had all survived the trip, though they certainly hadn’t enjoyed it. 

The main thing David was worried about now was starting at this new school. Les, his brother, would be fine. He made friends with everyone immediately. Sarah, David’s twin sister, was friendly and outgoing too, so she probably wouldn’t have any problems. 

David, on the other hand, did not do so well at the “making friends” thing.

The fact that they were moving from one tiny close-minded town to another made it all the more difficult for someone like him. 

The fact that it was kind of because of him that they were moving was not lost on David. 

He gets his face smashed in at school _ one time _ and then suddenly Bubbe is too frail to live on her own anymore so they just have to move to help her out. Why did he have to be so weird? David was genuinely amazed Les and Sarah didn’t hate him for uprooting their lives with his problems. He was grateful too, of course, but very surprised. 

David debated whether or not to wear the little beaded fidget bracelet Sarah had made for him, but decided against it in favor of looking as discreet and uninteresting as possible. No use making enemies on the first day. 

David sighed, rubbing at his eyelashes lightly in a vain attempt to calm himself. He suspected he wasn’t going to like this school any more than the old one. 

David headed out the door, not at all ready for the new day, but going to face it anyway. 

○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●

It was a fairly small school, so David and Sarah had the same homeroom teacher, Kloppman. The guy seemed pretty cool, and he assigned seats alphabetically by last name, so David got to sit with his sister and not worry about the whole “social interaction” thing, at least for the time being. 

Their tablemate, unfortunately, was apparently a big fan of social interaction. "Hey. I'm Jack. Jack Kelly.” He flopped loosely into his seat. “You guys new here?" 

The guy had a wide smile and in general seemed pretty cheerful, but David knew fully well how quickly people could become jerks. 

"I'm Sarah Jacobs, and this is David."

Well now David had to say something, didn't he? He couldn’t just sit there like an idiot. 

"We just moved here from Colorado." 

David silently prayed that he didn't sound as nervous as he felt. 

"Well, if ya need anything, I'd be glad to show you around." Jack smiled brightly, and David was almost able to return it. Maybe this guy was really genuine. 

David was so distracted by his own thoughts that he nearly jumped out of his skin when at the sudden appearance of yet another apparently very outgoing boy. Was everyone here so loud? David really hoped not. No way he’d survive if that was the case. 

“Jacky, what am I supposed to do?” The boy groaned dramatically. “He still doesn’t notice me!”

Jack laughed as he shoved the boy off his lap, which the guy had claimed as a headrest immediately after sitting down. 

“David, Sarah, this is Racetrack. Supposedly he’s a genius, but he’s the dumbest genius you’re ever gonna meet,” Jack teased his friend in introduction. “Skipped a full grade and still doesn’t know how to take a hint that a guy isn’t interested.”

_ A guy?  _ David wondered. That was interesting, or at least, it was in what he’d assumed was a small minded little town. If this Racetrack could be open about his sexuality, maybe things would actually be okay here. Maybe people wouldn’t have a problem with the “weird, twitchy kid” at this school. David could at least hope. 

Oh, they were talking, weren’t they?

“I  _ am  _ in love,” Racetrack declared, and before he could stop himself, David blurted out,

“You’re gay?”

“David!” Immediately Sarah scolded him, as if he didn’t know how unacceptable that was to say. 

“You can’t just say it like that!”

David felt his face grow hot, like it always did when Sarah or anyone else called him out on stuff like that. He hoped it wasn’t too obvious that he was completely humiliating himself already. Why couldn’t he just be normal? He never said the right thing. 

Luckily, Racetrack didn’t seem to care in the slightest. 

“I’m a rainboy. Get it? Rainbow Boy, Rainboy?” It wasn’t funny, but David was just glad Racetrack wasn’t mad, so he smiled anyway. 

And then he immediately lost the smile when Racetrack flipped his chair over with a crash that was loud enough to make even Sarah jump a little. 

Not only was Racetrack uninjured, he seemed completely unconcerned, and proceeded to chat playfully with the teacher, an older man who David thought looked nice. 

David found himself losing focus, and however much he tried, he couldn't get his mind to stay where he needed it to. The only thing he could think about was the fact that there was a loose thread on the inside of his shirt, and it kept touching the back of his neck. 

_ Don't wiggle. Don't try and get it out. Stay quiet. Just sit. _ He could hear his parents in his head, saying things like  _ quiet hands _ or any number of things the books and online parenting forums told them to say. 

David hated having to keep still. He'd never been particularly good at it, especially when he got nervous. Right now, David was very nervous. 

"Hey, you good?" Jack murmured, nudging David's leg under the table. 

David nodded slowly, wishing he was better at hiding how weird he got sometimes. 

He'd get better once it all wasn't so new, David knew that. But he still wouldn't be like Sarah. 

He'd never be like Sarah, or Les, or anybody else who could do things right. 

David shook the troublesome thoughts from his head. He was doing okay for now. He'd even kind of made a new friend, and on his first day. 

Maybe things would be okay. There was always hope, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanna write a genderbent Finch, because I like the name, so if anyone has any suggestions/headcanons that I could use, or in general a description of how the frick the character even acts, cuz I'm literally just goin by name lol


	3. 🚬🐜 welcome to the Boots appreciation society

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which...
> 
> Sarah is a worried big sister,  
> Racetrack has a crush,  
> Spot likes cars,  
> And Finch is a girl (because I said so)

Sarah couldn't help but worry about her baby brother, even if she was only a few minutes older than him. Les was the baby of the family, sure, but David was the one who needed her to look out for him. 

Take their homeroom, for example. David just outright asked a boy about his sexuality, blunt as ever. Not that Sarah had any problem with anybody's sexuality or however outspoken they wanted to be about it, but she wasn't naive enough to think everyone felt the same. 

It was no wonder David got beat up, if he kept saying things like that! 

Sarah felt bad as soon as the thought crossed her mind. How could it be her brother's fault that people were cruel? 

The look on his face at her chiding made Sarah feel even worse. David ducked his chin in and hunched his shoulders the way he always did when one of their parents scolded him for anything, no matter how mild they were about it. 

David was incredibly sensitive sometimes, and Sarah just wished she could do more to help. 

Well, at least it looked like David had made a friend, Sarah thought with a smile as Jack leaned to whisper something to her brother, who stopped fidgeting long enough to nod in response to whatever Jack said. 

Hopefully this Jack Kelly boy would stick around. 

○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○

Racetrack Higgins looked at himself in the mirror of the boys bathroom at Birch Creek High School. 

"Come on, Racetrack. You rode a cow bareback for fun. You can talk to some guy, easy," he said out loud. 

_ Yeah, but the cow was practically asleep the whole time,  _ reminded the stupid little voice in his head. Stupid, idiot _goblin_ voice. 

Racetrack ran a hand through his hair with a groan. He was supposed to be the funny guy. Cocky, confident, goofy Racetrack. Best at pranks and loudest guy in the band. 

So why was he so afraid to talk to Spot Conlon?

_ Because you haven't properly talked to him since middle school.  _

Stupid advanced classes and skipping grades. 

Curse whoever it was that decided Racetrack was too smart not to skip a grade. 

Wait, no, Racetrack didn't want to curse his mom. 

Well, he had nothing to lose, or at least, that's what Racetrack told himself. He stepped back from the sink and set off to find his favorite hobbit in the school. 

○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○

Spot shoved his hands into his pockets, doing his absolute best to look as uninterested in the world as possible. Not difficult, seeing as the edge of the road next to a cornfield wasn't a very interesting place anyway. 

Jack Kelly, the kid down the road, nodded to him, and Spot responded in kind. He knew Jack, sort of. They'd been in the same school system, but never the same classes, what with the fact that Jack was almost three years older. 

Spot looked down at his phone as it buzzed with a text alert. 

**Boots : first day of hs, u ready?**

Spot wasn't  _ not  _ ready, but he wouldn't say he was excited either. His mother hadn't even been awake when he left home that morning, not that Spot cared. She could sleep all day as far as he was concerned. Or at least, that was what he told himself. 

He sent his best friend a reply

**Sure, managed to put a shirt on and drag myself out of bed. Very ready.**

Boots sent an ant and a cigarette emoji, his usual response when he didn't have anything else to say, because he was a jerk and a bully who made fun of Spot's size and self destructive habits, and Spot responded with a middle finger, because he wasn't feeling creative that day. 

A big blue truck drove by, and Spot looked up, somewhat interested now. A Honda (Spot liked Hondas), year 2012, if he had to guess. 

He hadn't seen that car before, and Spot usually noticed cars. It looked like it came from old Mrs. Jacobs place, so maybe she got a new car? 

Spot should have paid attention to the driver, he realized as the bus pulled up. 

Well, no time to think about that. 

First day of high school, he had bigger things to deal with.

○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○

_ New year, new me,  _ Finch thought with a sarcastic little smile as she pulled her hair back with a bright yellow scrunchie. She liked the old her, thank you very much. No use changing something that wasn't broken. 

"Finch! Quit preening and come on! I wanna get to school sometime this century!" 

Finch ignored her brother's grumbling. She had been in the bathroom for all of two minutes, and of course he acted like it was the end of the world. 

Boots was just fussy from worrying that he might be late on his first day of high school, she knew. 

Things would be back to normal once he got into the swing of things. 

"Finch, hurry up!"

And if he didn't calm down, she could always just kill him. 


	4. Jack is "that horse crazy girl" you knew in middle school.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not speak Yiddish, as much as I wish I did. I should learn. That'd be fun.   
> For now, google is helping me out, so if you happen to speak Yiddish and notice I said something wrong, lmk. 
> 
> David is ripped, because I said so. 
> 
> Dancer, the horse, is based entirely on the horse Jack just f*cking steals in 1992sies Santa Fe.

Jack got off the bus and made his way to the house, smiling as the ranch dogs milled around him in greeting. 

Mr. Snyder wasn’t a fan of dogs, as was evident through his naming system, which consisted of assigning each dog a different curse word. Jack didn't like swearing at dogs, so he made up his own names. His versions rhymed with Snyder’s so he didn’t confuse the dogs, and also Snyder wouldn't really notice. 

Peach, Jack’s favorite dog, blinked her mismatched blue and brown eyes up at him adoringly as he scratched behind her floppy ears. Energetic youngster Aster jumped straight up in the air until he laughed and gave her some attention too. 

Tucker wagged his tail and headbutted Jack’s leg, wanting to be included. 

“Okay, enough of this,” Jack laughed, rubbing Tucker's head. “I gotta put my stuff away and go do my chores.”

Followed by a yipping trio of dogs, Jack deposited his backpack in his room and headed back out. Snyder waited for him in the kitchen. 

“Branch came down on the fence up near the old Jacobs place by the road. You’re going to fix it.” 

Jacobs. Like the new guy, David. Jack tended to forget the neighboring farm existed, old Mrs. Jacobs kept to herself so much. Maybe she was somehow related to David and his family. 

“Yessir.”

“Andre’s already brought all the tools and materials out there, so you just need to do the work.”

“Yessir.” 

“Ain’t you got anything else to say to me, boy?” 

If he talked, that was having an attitude. If he didn’t talk, that was having an attitude. Jack couldn’t ever seem to get it right. 

“Sorry, sir. I’ll get it done right away.” 

Snyder grunted in approval then, and Jack took that as permission to leave. 

Jack went to saddle “his” horse. He breathed in the scent of hay and straw and sweat and leather and felt the tension that Snyder brought to his body fade away. 

Jack loved everything about the horses. The smell of their bodies, the strength of their powerful muscles, the soft fuzzy part of their noses. All of it. 

Horses were probably the only thing Jack and Snyder had in common. They could almost have a normal conversation if the topic was horses. Almost. 

Jack made his way to a stall closer to the back, where a brown and white splotchy horse munched on her dinner. 

“Hey Dancer.” The horse lifted her head at the greeting. The horses all got much better names than the dogs. Jack rubbed the white blaze down her nose, and she butted her wide head into his arm playfully. 

“Ready to go out? Gotta fix a fence,” Jack said, getting his tack from the shelving beside the stall. 

Dancer snorted and pricked her ears happily when she saw the saddle. Mr. Snyder didn’t let his horses out nearly enough, in Jack’s opinion (not that he was stupid enough to say so), which meant they were always excited to be ridden. 

Jack threw the saddle onto Dancer’s back. The beautiful young mare was absolutely not Jack’s horse, but he rode her the most and liked to pretend she was his. If he had a horse of his own, Jack would want it to be one like Dancer. 

How many times in his early weeks here had Jack come to her for comfort and companionship? Bruised and broken, he had desperately needed a friend, and Dancer was that. She was steady and true, and her warm breath in his hair was as soothing as the most loving embrace from any human. 

Jack had human friends, sure, but he couldn't exactly tell Racetrack or Crutchie about the things that went on at "home". They'd insist on telling somebody, and then where would Jack be? 

Dancer was much simpler. She just listened without giving any unwanted advice. 

Jack led the mare out of the barn and pulled himself into the saddle. Strange to think he'd never even ridden a horse before coming to live with Snyder, and now he felt at home in the saddle as much, if not more, than he'd ever felt with both feet on the ground. 

Dancer never needed any urging to get going; she loved to run, and Jack was happy to be along for the ride. 

○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○

Fixing the fence itself turned out to be the easy part. Apparently, when Mr. Snyder said “branch”, what he meant was “the majority of an entire tree”. Quite a lot for one boy and a horse to move on their own. 

Finally, he’d managed, by hacking off bits of the tree and tethering them to Dancer, to get the entire fence cleared. Now for the fixing part. 

In his five years living at the ranch (God, had it really been that long?), Jack had become fairly handy at fixing things. To be completely honest, he’d much prefer making things on his own, not just repairing a boring old fence, but still. Any work with his hands was a welcome activity. 

Jack sat back on his heels, admiring his work. Not to seem arrogant, but Jack knew he was pretty good with a set of tools. He could have a real future doing this, maybe get away from Snyder forever. He looked up from his fence and his thoughts with a jolt when he heard a voice from the little stretch of trees on the other side of the fence dividing Mrs. Jacobs’ land from Snyder’s. 

“Lil- _ ly! _ You’re going to get eaten, do you want that?”

Jack recognized that voice. 

A sheep, bleating happily like she was on some kind of grand adventure, burst through the brush, followed by the owner of the voice, one David Jacobs, looking a weird mixture of irritated and amused. 

“David?” Jack shifted to his feet, brushing dirt from his knees. 

“Oh! Uh, hi, Jack, right?” Jack nodded. David looked suddenly very nervous, wrapping his arms around the sheep’s fuzzy neck like she was a teddy bear. 

“Nice ta see you, David. Didn’t realize we had new neighbors. Mrs. Jacobs still doing alright?” Jack asked, concerned now. Mrs. Jacobs, though he didn’t know her that well, had always been a kind woman. He didn’t like to think of anything happening to her. 

“She’s fine,” David assured him. “Just needs a little more help lately, so we moved on over to give her a hand. She’s my grandma,” he explained. Jack had assumed that, considering how Mrs. Jacobs wasn’t exactly young. 

“So David, you spend a lot of your time traipsing through the woods with your loyal sheep?” Jack teased. 

David looked down at the sheep, rubbing his cheek on her neck in a weirdly loving way. Jack hadn’t ever met somebody who treated their sheep like that. David acted like Lily was a dog or something, instead of the livestock she was. 

“This is Lily. She’s got a bad habit of escaping, and I’d rather she not get lost or killed, but apparently she doesn’t care, do you, girl?” He scratched the sheep’s back affectionately. 

“Stupid little schmatte.”

“Schmatte?”

What the heck language did this guy speak?

David looked embarrassed. 

“Sorry, my grandma speaks Yiddish a lot. I picked it up from her, I guess. Just little phrases here and there. Schmatte means… basically a dishrag,” he explained, rubbing the sheep between her ears. 

“Schmatte,” Jack repeated. “I’ll have to remember that one.”

David gave a little smile, looking slightly less like a deer in the headlights

“Well, I should get this girl back home,” David said after a moment of awkward silence. 

“See ya around, David.”

“See ya, Jack,” David repeated, lifting the sheep up in his arms. 

“Whoa!” 

David turned back abruptly. 

“What?”

“You just lifted a _ sheep  _ like it was  _ nothing.”  _ Jack wasn’t an expert on sheep, but he was pretty sure they weighed a good hundred pounds, at least.

David looked pleased at Jack’s obvious astonishment. 

“I’ve been lifting Lily since she was born,” he explained. “I guess I just got stronger as she got bigger.”

“Well, you oughta try out for the wrestling team or somethin’,” Jack said, impressed. “You’d kick all their asses, totally.”

David smiled, kicking at the ground shyly. “I don’t think so. Not really my thing. See you at school, Jack.”

“See ya, Davey.” 

Jack shook his head in wonder as the neighbor boy walked off into the trees, livestock cradled like a baby. 

David sure was something.


	5. Sad thought hours and also sheeps🐑

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tw for self esteem issues, as well as internal ableism and what could be considered physical abuse. (I am attempting to go for a "not evil, they just dont get it" vibe, not sure if its working or not.)
> 
> No idea if anyone's still reading this, but I am enjoying writing it, so we gonna keep going :)
> 
> ALSO, I am unsure as to what the next chapter should be, so if someone is reading this and has an opinion, I humbly request ur input.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not presume to speak for anyone with autism aside from myself, so all of David's struggles are going to be ones either I or someone close to me have experienced.  
> (I am very lucky to have supportive, understanding parents, but not everyone does.)
> 
> Also I do not speak Yiddish, so if google was wrong, please lmk.

By the time the school day ended, David was really ready to go home. He was completely exhausted. It was so  _ loud  _ here! How anyone managed to learn anything at school was beyond him. 

Maybe it just felt loud to him. Sarah said it wasn’t loud, and she was probably right. Sarah was the normal one, not David. 

It was just lucky they didn't have to ride the bus to and from school. David didn't think he would be able to bear that much noise. 

It was so much. Even at home, the sounds were too foreign. David knew he'd get used to them eventually, but for right now, every creak of a chair and every hum of the refrigerator was like nails on a chalkboard. 

David sat at the kitchen table, tapping his pencil absently on his notebook as he did homework. The light clanking on the spiral wire binding was soothing, a steady sound in a chaotic world. 

"Quiet hands, David," Esther reminded him.  _ Quiet hands. Stupid.  _

She pinched the skin on the back of his hand sharply to better drive the point home. 

David hated that. It just made him want to fidget more. 

He frowned at his math work, forcing himself to be still. Why was his mother looking at him like that? David was tapping his leg again, wasn’t he? He forced it to stop abruptly, wishing he had another way to stop the horrible feeling tightening more and more in his chest, the feeling like a blanket of spiders covering his head and creeping down his spine. 

"David,  _ sheifale,  _ what's wrong?" Bubbe was the one who noticed, always. And not in a bad way, not a scolding, pinching way. Her way was gentle, calling David her little sheep, never touching him unless he was ready. Bubbe understood.

"Nothing's wrong, Bubbe," he lied. "Just tired. It was a long day." How could he explain that every day was a long day lately? It was too loud, too much. He was so tired. 

Bubbe smiled and patted his hand lovingly. Bubbe's touch never hurt. Never. 

David loved her more than anything in the world. 

Through some miracle, David managed to finish his homework without any other issues. 

He should start doing his homework in his room, not at the kitchen table. Then nobody would see him fidgeting if he needed to think. 

Didn’t everybody fidget sometimes? Why was it so bad when  _ David  _ fidgeted? If Sarah fidgeted, David thought bitterly, it would be just fine. Sarah was  _ normal.  _ She was the good one, the smart one, the one who made friends easily. 

David adored his sister; she was his best friend, and yet… he wished she could be a little bit less perfect, just sometimes. 

Then it wouldn’t be so obvious that he just… wasn’t. 

"David!" Les' shout popped David's bubble of self-loathing. 

"Lily's out again!" David groaned. Lily was his favorite sheep, and he was totally willing to admit it. He'd bottle fed her since her mother died, and now the young ewe was a strong, playful creature who caused more problems than her cute little face would hint she was able to. 

He glanced out the window, and sure enough, Lily was happily evading all of his brother's attempts to capture her. 

David pulled on his shoes and went out to help. Lily bleated happily when she saw her favorite person, but apparently had no desire to actually come, even for David. 

“Come on, Lily,” David groaned. Lily, absolutely convinced this was a wonderful game, darted off into the trees that bordered their property. 

"Les, go tell Mom and Dad Lily got out and I'm going to catch her. Again." Les nodded and ran into the house. While David would appreciate help catching his sheep, Les' version of help tended to just get Lily even more excited and difficult to catch. 

David jogged into the woods after her. No way would a fuzz-brained little thing like Lily survive if left to her own devices. 

○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○

That evening, David sat on his bed, fiddling with his only remaining stuffed animal left from a childhood of obsession with fuzzy objects.

Over the past few years, David had gotten rid of (both willingly and because his parents insisted) most of his plush animals, some to Les, others donated or, tragically, the trash. 

His favorite, the oldest, most loved one, David kept hidden, absolutely not willing to lose him. 

It's name was Sheep, even though it was a bear, not a sheep. David had been extremely small when his parents had given him Sheep, and he still took comfort in the toy's soft fur. Nobody knew about Sheep except Sarah, and she would never tell anyone, David was sure. 

Today had been a long day, with the new school, Lily's grand escape, and their apparent new neighbor, Jack Kelly. David was feeling a bit overwhelmed by it all, so out came Sheep from his new place between the bed and the wall. 

What David really wanted was to put the stuffed animal in his mouth, but it had been drilled into his head that that was unacceptable. He knew it was unacceptable, weird, babyish. He was almost an adult, couldn't be acting like a teething child. 

But he definitely really wanted to. He hadn't wanted to do that in a really long time, not since he was much younger. Everything was just so weird and different. The house even smelled different. 

He missed not having to wear socks everywhere. This carpet just felt weird and scratchy. The weirder David felt, the weirder he acted. 

But he had a friend now, sort of. A friend he’d made all on his own. 

Jack Kelly. He seemed cool, like a normal person, and it looked like they might become friends. 

He'd called David  _ Davey. _ The only person who called David anything but David was Bubbe. A nickname was almost thrilling. It made him feel special, even though realistically he knew it really meant nothing. 

And Jack had been impressed by his strength. David didn't think of himself as strong. Sure, he could lift up lots of things, but he wasn't  _ strong.  _ David was weak and twitchy and  _ weird.  _ It always came back to weird. 

But maybe, just maybe, this Jack Kelly guy didn't care. 

Maybe things would be different now. 


	6. Specs and Finch are best friends, sorry I dont make the rules

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If u like this, please let me know. I haven't got a clue if anyone's reading this or not, so idk if I'm doing things right or not!
> 
> Plz let me know what you like or dont like, would like to see more or less of.

Spot wandered the empty halls at school after wrestling practice, waiting for his mother to pick him up. She'd probably just forgotten, he thought bitterly. That tended to happen with her. It was only one day a week, he could take the bus home right after school every day except Wednesday. 

Couldn't she be bothered to get out of the house for once?

Apparently not, not even for her own son.

It wasn't like it was  _ his _ fault he existed. 

Only the slight hum of the air conditioning system and the soft creak of pipes disturbed the quiet, making the whole place feel ten times more eerie.

Even most of the staff had left by now, Spot realized. He saw a janitor, who looked at him funny but didn't seem interested in saying anything to the student wandering around in the dark, wearing his gym clothes. 

While Spot definity preferred the school without all the  _ people _ there, if his mom didn't turn up soon, he'd wind up locked in. Spot sighed and headed for the exit. He might as well start walking.

* * *

“Specs, stop the car,” Finch ordered. 

Racetrack groaned from his place in the back seat. 

“Come on, Finch! I wanna go  _ home _ . We don’t have to stop every time you see a piece of trash on the side of the - Finch, no!” 

Specs stopped the car beside the one person Racetrack absolutely did  _ not _ want to be trapped in the car with right now. 

Spot Conlon. 

He'd broken Racetrack's heart only two days ago!  _ Rejected  _ him brutally. 

Well, not really. He'd just been a bit confused as to why the dorky kid was talking to him, but he'd basically torn Racetrack's heart out and set it on fire. Probably on purpose, Race told himself, trying to rid himself of his crush within the next minute before he might end up forced to talk to the guy.

Spot did it on purpose, of course, because he was a horrible, mean, no good, very attractive, cool, strong, _Amazing_ person who Racetrack couldn't bring himself not to like, however hard he tried.

“Finch, if you care about me at  _ all,  _ you will not let him in this car,” Racetrack declared. Finch brushed him off. 

“Look at him! He’s gonna get kidnapped or run over.”

Racetrack groaned pathetically. "You don't have to be everyone's  _ mom, _ Finch!"

Why was Spot walking down this road? It wasn’t a particularly scenic place, and it was a bit late for him to be walking home from anything except band, which Race would know if he was in, because how could he not? And-

“Need a ride, Spot?”

Stupid, friendly, good person Finch, picking up teenagers off the side of the road so they don't  _ die.  _

Since when did Finch even know Spot, anyway?

Spot was in the car. Spot Conlon was  _ in the car _ . The  _ same  _ car Racetrack was in. He was sitting  _ next to  _ Racetrack. 

Spot Conlon was  _ Speaking To Racetrack.  _

"Hey. Racetrack, right?"

Race let out a squeak that sort of resembled a yes, and then he was pretty sure his soul left his physical body. 

"Okay then…" Spot trailed off in mild confusion. Why did Racetrack feel like he was being laughed at? Nobody was laughing, were they? They shouldn't laugh at a guy who'd just panicked his soul out of his body. It was just _Rude_ to laugh at a guy in that situation.

Spot was adorable and Race wished he was dead. Race wished Race was dead, not Spot. Spot should live forever, it was only right. 

Race, on the other hand, should be dead. Life? What is life? He was going to kill Finch, and then himself. 

* * *

Finch did her best not to giggle at Racetrack's obvious distress. 

Everyone knew about his crush, except apparently Spot, who must be a massive idiot, or completely and totally blind. Those two just needed a little push in the right direction, and no way was Racetrack going to make any definitive move on his own. 

She looked in the rearview mirror as discreetly as possible. Of course, Racetrack wasn't  _ talking _ . He had to talk, the dumbass. 

Like usual, it was up to Finch to keep her friends from just spontaneously combusting, she thought with a smile. 

"So, Spot, how's wrestling been going?" She looked at Racetrack, determined to drag him into the conversation. 

"Spot's my brother's best friend. He's been in wrestling since middle school." Racetrack squeaked out something that vaguely resembled a response, and Spot looked at Finch questioningly. 

"Wrestling's going good. Coach said he was surprised I was any good, which honestly is kinda insulting, but hey, I'll take what I can get."

He smiled, and then turned to Racetrack. 

"What about you, Racetrack? What're you into?"

Racetrack looked like he might faint. 

"Who, me?"

"Know any other Racetracks in this car?" 

Racetrack giggled nervously, sounding not unlike a demented parakeet. Finch had to turn away to hide how much she wanted to laugh. 

"I'm in band with Finch. Jazz band. Tromboner. I mean -ist. Trombone _ ist.  _ No bonering." He looked at Finch desperately. She should probably rescue him from himself before the poor guy just dropped dead. 

"Racetrack's really good. First chair. You should come to the fall concert," she suggested. That would give Racetrack another chance to see him. Maybe then he'd actually manage to string together some coherent thoughts. 

"You can just drop me off here," Spot said when they made it to the end of his road. 

Finch knew exactly why he didn't want them going all the way to his house, but it wasn't anyone else's business, so she kept it to herself.

Racetrack managed, miraculously, to squawk out the words "see you later" as Spot climbed out of the car. 

As Spot made his way down the road, Racetrack slammed his head against the back of Finch's seat, groaning in despair. 

"Finchyyyyyyyyy! How could you do this to me?" 

"I think that went pretty well, don't you, Specs?"

Finch grinned to the boy in the driver seat. He nodded, struggling to keep his face neutral.

"Very successful. Now he knows Racetrack has a boner."

Racetrack let out an inhuman shriek/moan/howl, pressing his face deep into the upholstery of Skittery's car.

"I can't even say Trombone! I  _ play  _ trombone! I am going to  _ die _ ," Racetrack declared.

"No, you aren't," Finch soothed. "You did good! You guys had an actual conversation, Racer! I'm very proud of you."

She twisted to offer him a fist bump, which Racetrack rather pathetically returned. 

"When I just don't wake up tomorrow, promise you'll miss me, Specs?"

"Of course, Racetrack. I'll miss driving you around places and hearing you whine and make jokes that aren't funny."

"Damn right you will!"


	7. Denton is Valid.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning, this chapter has a lot of language/thoughts about David being autistic that can definitively be a bit hurtful to some, so plz be safe while reading. 
> 
> I would like to clarify all this though : David thinks he is weird because he is struggling to understand why he feels and acts the way he does, since he hasn't been properly diagnosed.
> 
> Jack sees David as odd, but not in a bad way or anything.

Jack spent most of homeroom thinking about Dancer. He hadn't had time to say hello to her that morning, since he'd slept through his alarm and had to get ready to go while Mr. Snyder was actually awake. The horse was always on his mind when he didn't get to check in in the morning. Maybe he was a bit obsessive, but that was just fine. Dancer deserved his obsession. 

"Wow, those are really good!" Jack glanced up from his notebook where he'd been doodling to see Sarah, David's sister, watching him draw in the margins. 

"They're nothing," he said, half covering the little pictures with one hand. 

He'd just been drawing horses, like some middle school girl. 

"No," Sarah insisted, reaching for his notebook. "They're good. Do you ride?"

Jack nodded, letting her take it. 

"I do some work at home. 'Sa cattle ranch, so I ride a lot." 

It felt weird calling Snyder's ranch home. It hadn't ever been home, and Jack doubted it ever would be, but he didn't want to have to explain that to Sarah. 

David was watching them silently, which was a little odd, but Jack had learned that oddness was somewhat to be expected from David. He didn't particularly mind, but there were certainly people who would mind. 

Jack just hoped David could avoid those kinds of people as much as possible. 

Sarah flipped through Jack's government notes, looking at all the little pictures he'd done in any spare inch of paper. 

"Those are really good," David said softly, speaking for the first time all of homeroom. 

Jack had one other class with David, chemistry, and he was always pretty quiet there, too. 

Jack had liked science, until they went and added  _ math _ to it, but David seemed to be doing pretty good, unless the teacher called on him, in which case he froze up like a startled rabbit. 

That teacher had quickly learned to stop surprising David with questions. 

David was definitely something else, but Jack had to admit, he liked the guy. Just a few days of only occasionally speaking, and David was beginning to loosen up, especially after their first run in with the sheep and the fence and all that. 

David was still jumpy as all hell, which did make Jack wonder. 

He was probably just projecting, he decided. Sarah wasn't always on edge, so more than likely their home life was just fine. 

Jack's fingers itched for his notebook. He didn't like having other people hold onto his stuff. In his experience, that usually meant you didn't get it back. 

He tapped his pencil impatiently as Sarah still thumbed through the pages. 

David mumbled something under his breath. 

"What?"

"Quiet hands." David's voice was hardly above a whisper, and he looked upset, teeth clenched and frowning like he had a migraine. 

Jack stopped his tapping. 

Bit of an odd thing to get worked up about, to be sure, but if it made David uncomfortable, Jack could stop the tapping easily. 

It seemed like David had days where he acted all normal, and days where he definitely did not. It looked like today was most likely going to be a not-normal day, if his relative silence other than the awkward muttering was anything to go by.

Sarah slid Jack back his notebook, and he snatched it up protectively.

"They're really good," she insisted. "Are you planning on going to art school?"

Jack shook his head. 

"Don't have the money. Besides, you're wrong. They ain't that good."

Jack would love to go to art school, to learn to draw and paint better, but it just was not going to happen. He'd probably be a ranch hand for the rest of his life, and that was fine. 

Jack just hoped it wouldn't always be for Mr. Snyder. 

* * *

David gritted his teeth and tried to focus on the English worksheet in front of him. It was just a short little poem, nothing complicated. He just had to analyze the stupid thing. Normally things like this came fairly easy, but not today. Today, everything was absolute hell. 

Even just the faucet running that morning as he brushed his teeth made David want to rip his eardrums out just to make it stop, and things certainly hadn't gotten better as the day progressed. 

He was  _ trying _ . Trying so hard to look normal, like everything was fine. He just couldn't, and David had been absolutely mortified when Jack noticed. 

If Jack noticed, Sarah probably noticed, and she'd probably tell their parents, and they would be disappointed in him. David hated disappointing his parents. 

He seemed to do that a lot lately. 

"David." The voice at his shoulder nearly made David jump out of his seat. 

Mr. Denton was David's favorite teacher, even after just one week of classes. 

But that didn't mean he wanted to talk to him now. 

David rubbed his right hand up and down his left arm, trying desperately to calm down. 

He had to say something, but his mouth just wouldn't work. David looked at Mr. Denton's nose. It was close enough to pass for looking at the man's eyes, and David was very practiced at avoiding eye contact. 

Eyes showed too much, too fast, and he didn't want to see. 

Without speaking or forcing David to speak, Mr. Denton offered him a small stone. It was a dark blue color that made David think of the night sky, and a little bigger than David's thumb. 

"It's a worry stone," he explained. 

"Fits in your pocket, so you can bring it anywhere, and won't distract anyone around you if you need to fidget."

He smiled kindly, and David felt a little surge of warmth. 

David rubbed the smooth polished stone between his thumb and forefinger. It was a nice texture. Almost no texture, really. Just smoothness. 

"Thanks," David said softly. Nobody but Sarah had ever given him anything like this before. 

"David, if you ever need anything, I'm here, you can talk to me. All your teachers are."

David nodded. He wasn't going to talk to Mr. Denton, not about stuff like that. He didn't talk to anybody about it. 

The man didn't make David respond to his promise, just walked away, leaving David to himself. He stroked the little stone absently. It helped a little, at least. 

David turned back to his paper, grateful that Mr. Denton hadn't yelled at him about any of his weirdness. 


	8. I got a paper cut under my fingernail so writing this was painful!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tw for extremely brief joke about suicide, because us highschoolers (I can only say that for like 3 more days before I graduate) be like that when joking.

“Crutchie and Finch both want me dead!” Racetrack declared, flopping into his seat at the lunch table with a dramatic flail. 

“Race, if I wanted you dead, you wouldn’t know until it was too late,” Crutchie said, cheerfully munching on his apple. He didn’t want Race to die, he wanted him to  _ live _ , and stop being such a coward about his crush. 

“Did Finch try and make you talk to He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named again?” Jack teased, poking Racetrack in the ribs. 

“Finch  _ did  _ make me yesterday, because she is  _ mean _ . Crutchie, the overly optimistic little fool, tried to make me today. It’s a conspiracy!” Racetrack insisted. 

All Crutchie had done was suggest Racetrack  _ talk _ to his crush, like a reasonable person, but of course Racer went and made it into some illuminati/murder plot thing. 

“I’ve got a bounty on my head, don’t I?”

“You have a sticker on your head, that’s what you have.” Mush reached up, and sure enough, Racetrack had the sticker shaped like a sparkly yellow rubber duck stuck in his hair. 

“Racetrack,” Crutchie tried to reason with the boy. “You really just need to put yourself out there. I’m sure he’d like you if you just  _ talked  _ to him. You’re a cool guy,” Crutchie promised. 

Racetrack slammed his head into the table. 

“But he’s so much  _ cooler _ ! Besides, how do you know what Spot Conlon would or wouldn’t like? The only thing you have in common with him is that you’re both three feet tall.”

“I’m only short cause I’m always sitting!” Crutchie protested. Without the whole wheelchair thing, he’d be at  _ least  _ 5’7”. 

Racetrack ignored the protest in favor of continuing the eulogy to his own dignity. 

“He  _ hates  _ me and I can already tell. He thinks I am a  _ freak,  _ and it’s all Finchy’s fault.”

Finch, Crutchie’s best friend since elementary school, was not at all concerned by her role in destroying Racetrack’s life. 

"It's going to be fine, Racetrack." She didn't even look up from her food as she spoke. 

"Spot's been friends with my brother for years. Trust me, he won't care that you're a freak."

"But I'm  _ not _ a freak!" Race grumbled, picking at his school cafeteria "chicken nuggets" in irritation. 

“You are a freak, Race." Blink declared, eating his American cheese and peanut butter sandwich happily. Why Blink brought his own lunch only to eat something  _ more  _ disgusting than the cafeteria offered was beyond Crutchie's understanding. 

"It’s fine. Embrace the freakiness. Own it. He’ll be impressed."

Blink was quite the expert on being a freak. 

Racetrack did not seem particularly convinced. 

He looked about to speak, but Jack surprised everyone by standing up from the table all of a sudden. 

“What’s he doing?” Mush wondered aloud. 

Jack was talking to the new kid, Crutchie thought his name was David? 

He was sitting alone, though his sister was in the cafeteria somewhere, Crutchie knew. He had Sarah for math class, and she seemed pretty cool. He kind of wondered why David didn’t sit with her. 

Jack had apparently convinced David to come with him, the new guy trailing behind Jack like a shy little kid as they returned to the table. 

"Guys, this is Davey. He's new. Cool if he sits here?" Jack didn't bother waiting for a response, but it would have been a yes anyway. They were always glad to meet new people. As long as the new people weren't jerks. 

David/Davey looked like he might faint from having people look at him, but he sat down in between Jack and Crutchie. 

"Nice to meet you, David. I'm Crutchie." He gave David a welcoming smile, but the new boy still looked like he'd accidentally stumbled into a lion's den. 

David squeaked in surprise at Crutchie's introduction, like he hadn't expected anyone to acknowledge him, but he did return the smile, sort of, if not the greeting. 

"You're Sarah's brother, right?" 

Crutchie wanted to bring David into the conversation somehow, but he didn't know much about the guy. 

David nodded, still looking extremely overwhelmed. He had one hand in his pocket, using the other to eat his sandwich. 

"She had a doctor's appointment today, so we couldn't eat together," David explained softly. 

"Well, maybe tomorrow you can both sit here," Mush suggested cheerfully. 

"We can always fit one more!"

"Racetrack!" Finch interrupted the conversation.

"Get that out of your mouth!"

Racetrack had either cheered up enough to consider a battery a healthy snack alternative, or he was so miserable he was eating a battery to end it all.

Crutchie hoped they wouldn't scare the new kid off immediately. 

* * *

David couldn't help but smile as he ate his peanut butter sandwich. 

All Jack's friends were so nice, and none of them seemed to care if he talked or not, thankfully. 

David didn't like to talk during lunch. 

Lunch was really his break in the school day. He didn't have to talk to anybody, and he could fidget as much as he wanted, nobody would know except Sarah, and Sarah never made fun of David. 

It was just too bad the cafeteria was so  _ loud _ . Didn't these people know how to be quiet? 

At least they let David be quiet, more or less. Or at least, they didn't make fun of him for being quiet. 

Crutchie did seem to want to get him to talk, bit that was okay. Crutchie was nice, and David quickly decided he liked the cheerful boy. His name didn't make any sense, since he had a wheelchair and not crutches, but the other guys had weird names too, so maybe that was just normal for them. 

These guys, (and one girl, who David thought seemed entirely too cool for him to speak to) were all really friendly, normal people. David wasn't normal, but they didn't seem to care. 

And they'd invited him to sit there again tomorrow! It wasn't  _ just _ Jack who wanted to be around him anymore. 

This new town really was looking like it was going to be different from before. 

David was making  _ friends _ , and they weren't even Sarah's friends first.

He really hoped his parents would be proud. 


	9. "Hey Google, what sound does a basketball make?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The response google gave me to that question was "jazz" and idk why, but that just doesnt seem right. 
> 
> I made Crutchie be in a wheelchair because one of my buddies plays basketball in his wheelchair so I have a convenient source if I have questions seeing as I dont like sports. 
> 
> Boots and Spot are best friends, sorry, I dont make the rules.

After the school day ended, Crutchie liked to get some practice in the gym, so that was where he headed as soon as he got out of his last class. 

He loved basketball. Loved the ka-THWONG sound of the ball hitting the floor, the thrill of moving fast, sometimes even flipping yourself out of your chair, all the excitement, the adrenaline, all of it.

He had to practice alone, unfortunately. Not many people were interested in staying after school to practice, and even less were willing to practice with him. For some reason, the wheelchair tended to scare people off, for reasons Crutchie really couldn’t comprehend. Reall, worst case scenario, he ran over somebody’s toes. That was it. 

Well, practicing alone really just meant he could work on his drills in peace. When Crutchie played basketball, the entire world faded away. All that existed was ball, floor, net, and boy. 

He wished he could use his basketball chair, but that unfortunately was a bit big to cram into a backpack and bring to school. The normal chair would have to do. 

“I didn’t know anybody else hung around the gym after school.”

Crutchie turned abruptly, nearly flipped his chair over in surprise at the voice, snapping him out of his “basketball trance.”

Stupid normal wheelchair, not made for basketball playing. 

He now faced a boy he sort of recognized, probably from some class or another, or maybe just walking the same halls. He looked a bit older, and Crutchie kind of felt bad that he couldn’t recall his name, seeing as he definitely wasn’t new to the school. 

“I’m Charlie. Charlie Morris,” Crutchie offered when the boy didn’t say anything else. 

“Most people just call me Crutchie.”

“Crutchie,” the boy repeated, now looking at him funny. Crutchie laughed. People were always taken by surprise when they learned his nickname, and that was fair. It did sound a bit like a bully’s nickname, but Crutchie liked it. It was just him. 

“It’s fine. I don’t mind it. What’s your name?”

Crutchie had always been outgoing, the first to talk to the new kid and the one who knew the grocery store workers by name. It was kind of his trademark, that and being “the basketball nerd.”

“Skittery. I know, it’s a dumb nickname. Blame my brothers, dickheads, all of them.” He gave a half smile.

“I’m just here cause I forgot my math notes when I was pretending to participate in PE.” He held up the notebook as evidence of this. 

“Sports ain’t really my thing, obviously, since I was skipping PE, but for what it’s worth, you looked really good.”

Crutchie beamed. His basketball abilities were one of his greatest prides, and this guy, Skittery, seemed to be sincere in the compliment. 

"Thanks. I've been playing for years, so I would hope I'd be okay."

He smiled, setting the ball in his lap. 

“You on a team?” 

Crutchie nodded. 

“It’s like an hour drive both ways just to get to practice, but totally worth it. Besides,” Crutchie added, “I have to go for physical therapy anyway.” 

This small town didn’t have much by way of disability aid, unfortunately, but the next town over was a bit bigger, and had a center for kids and adults in similar situations. 

“Well, it was nice meeting you,” Skittery said awkwardly. “I gotta go before my dad goes absolutely nuts over waiting for me, but I’ll see you around.”

Crutchie nodded. 

“See ya.”

Skittery left the gym, and Crutchie turned back to his practice. A new friend was always a good thing, in Crutchie’s opinion. 

* * *

Boots was worried about Spot, and he wasn’t ashamed to admit it. 

His best friend had been acting weird since school started, and Boots didn’t like it one bit. 

“What happened to your eye?” 

Spot had a real good shiner forming, which, to be fair, did add to the “tough guy” appearance. But if someone was beating on his best friend, Boots was not going to just stand by and let Spot pretend it was all fine and dandy. 

“Wrestling,” Spot said, as if that would be a sufficient response. 

Boots did not believe that for one second. For one thing, if Spot ever got hurt wrestling, he wouldn’t shut up about it, telling Boots every little detail about how it happened. For another thing, they didn’t usually punch each other in the face while wrestling. 

Usually.

Boots narrowed his eyes. 

“Oh really?”

He did not like being lied to. 

“Yeah. What, you think I’m lying?”

Spot’s scowl was even more evidence that he was, in fact, lying. 

“We’ve been friends for how long? You still think I can’t tell when you’re lying?”

Spot growled under his breath, something about Boots being nosey, which was definitely fair, but it wasn’t like anybody else was going to look out for Spot. 

“You get into a fight again?”

Spot had been a bit of a problem kid in middle school, but he swore to Boots that it wouldn’t happen again. 

Spot didn’t look at him, which was enough of an answer for Boots. 

“Spot, you gotta stop doing that,” Boots groaned, shoving his friend playfully. 

“Well, I won, so what’s it matter?” Spot smirked. 

“It  _ matters  _ cause I don’t want my best friend getting expelled!” Boots declared. 

“I would never survive four years of high school without you, and your mom would kill you, and that would suck, and also, in case you didn’t notice, you are no longer the biggest guy in the school.”

“I was never the biggest guy in the school,” Spot argued. He’d always been short, thus the need to get strong and grow a bad attitude. 

“Yeah, well, now you’re just a tiny little freshman. So watch yourself.”

“Hey, too far!” Spot protested. “I am not  _ tiny.” _

“Are so. What are you gonna do about it, shorty?”

Spot growled at Boots, tackling him to the ground, which luckily was quite squishy due to it being a wrestling mat.

Boots laughed, shoving Spot away. 

“Okay, okay, you’re not short. You’re at least four feet tall.”

Spot scowled, but he was almost smiling beneath it, Boots could tell. 

“I can and will kick your ass, Boots.”

“I’m sure you will.” Boots patted his arm kindly, and then switched to being serious. 

“Just promise me you’ll try not to kill anyone? As a personal favor?”

“Alright, I’ll do my best.” Spot grumbled.

“But only cause it’s you.”


	10. Life's not fair.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tw for mentions of abuse and drug use.
> 
> A shorter chapter cause I'm struggling with this fic due to I love my other fic so much that I forget this one exists.

Jack curled up in his bed and tried to finish his homework. It was a bit difficult to focus, what with the throbbing in his head, but Jack had to get his work done, pain or no pain. 

If he started bringing home bad grades, Mr. Snyder would just be even more angry, and he'd hit Jack again, and then his head would hurt worse, and he wouldn't be able to focus, and things would just spiral infinitely until Jack's foster father finally snapped and killed him.

Or at least, that was how things would probably happen in Jack's current, very angry state of mind. Realistically, he knew Snyder liked having him around as free labor, so the man wasn't likely to kill him or kick him out any time soon. 

Although, would it really be so bad if Mr. Snyder kicked him out? Well, it wasn't like Jack had many more options. He was well aware this was basically his last chance aside from some kind of reform school. It wasn't like he caused trouble. 

Well, not anymore, at least.

But Mr. Snyder still seemed certain that the threat of getting shoved in some kind of institution should still be enough to keep Jack in line, so it was probably still the next step if he got kicked out. 

Sometimes, on days like today, Jack wondered if it could possibly be so bad. He wasn't even sure what he  _ did _ this time; Snyder had just whacked him on the side of the head for reasons that were unclear.

He must have done  _ something _ , but what? Jack couldn't figure it out, which meant he couldn't avoid doing it in the future. 

Jacms sighed, flopping back in the bed. He winced when his sore head smacked into the wall. Well, at least now if he bruised he wouldn't even really have to lie to anybody. 

"Busted my head thwackin' it on the wall, Finch."

And Finch would look at him skeptically, but she wouldn't press it. Nobody ever did. They didn't care enough, Jack supposed. 

Lots of people knew, or suspected at least. But around here, people mostly minded their own business. Everybody had problems, so what did people care if that punk kid Jack Kelly got beat on?

And he wasn't anything more that a punk kid, Jack thought bitterly. It made no difference that he hadn't caused any real trouble in years. These folks just couldn't let go of the past. Of  _ his  _ past. 

It wasn't fair. 

_ Life's not fair _ , his mother's voice whispered in the back of Jack's mind. 

He didn't want to think about her, not now. 

Jack turned back to his homework, determined to finish this stupid worksheet and think about nothing else. Not about Mama or how she didn't want him enough… 

_ No _ , Jack ordered his brain.  _ Stop thinking about that _ . It was just easier if he didn't think about it. Hurt less. 

But damn, it still hurt. 

Jack sighed once more. He missed his Mama. She hadn't been the best mom, not by a long shot, but she was  _ his _ mom, and he hated not knowing where she was or how she was doing.

She was probably still on heroin; she wouldn't give it up for eight year old Jacky, so she sure as hell wasn't gonna give it up now. 

The woman could be dead in a ditch, and nobody would ever know. Jack probably wouldn't find out, wasn't like anybody ever told  _ him _ anything. 

He wasn't going to get any homework done if he went on thinking like this. 

Jack tried to focus on his math work, really, he did. But before he knew it, he'd jumped off the bed and wiggled under it, grabbing his little box of important things from the farthest corner. 

It was a plastic pencil case, the kind of thing nobody questioned or tried to take away. 

Jack brushed the dust off lovingly (he hadn't looked in it in awhile) and popped the lid open. 

A small roll of emergency cash, saved up over the years, his spare pocketknife, the cigarettes Mr. Snyder would lose his mind if he knew about, and most importantly, Jack's photo. 

Him and Mama, way back when things had been good. Jack had to be about five in that picture, and they were both laughing. He had no idea who had taken the picture, but it was now his most valuable possession. 

He stared at it for a moment longer, tracing the outline of his mother's face with his fingertips. He'd never forget her smile, no matter how much time passed since the last time he saw it. 

Jack felt tears prick his eyes, and he gently put the photo back in its place of honor in the little pencil case. He slid the whole thing back under the bed for safekeeping and wiggled back out again. 

He wouldn't cry, not over that. Boys don't cry. Men don't cry, and he was supposed to be acting like a man. 

But Jack wasn't a man, not yet, and he knew it. Maybe he did man's work around the ranch, but that didn't make him a man.

Jack flipped back to his schoolwork, tears blurring the math problems and smearing his pencil Mark's. 

_ You weren't supposed to be a man at seventeen, but life's just not fair, right, Jacky? _


	11. Update : Katherine is still a goddess.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter cause I'm lazy and writers block be like >_<

Skittery sat at the kitchen table and flicked through his math notebook absently, still thinking about the boy in the gym. He had never seen somebody in a wheelchair who played basketball before, but then again, he didn't usually make a habit of watching people play basketball in general. 

Skittery had very little interest in sports or any of the people who played them, with the possible exception of that one kid who did both wrestling and robotics club (why couldn't he ever remember that guy's name?). 

Skittery's thoughts were interrupted by his dad, coach of the football team, knocking playfully on his head. Unlike a stereotypical high school movie would lead one to believe, this football coach jock man was actually not disappointed in his son for being a nerd. 

He could never seem to stop saying how proud he was of Skittery for being "smart enough that he couldn't answer his math questions anymore." Dad hadn't been able to help Skittery with math since high school started. 

"Hey Sebs. Sebby. There anyone in there?"

Apparently he'd been trying to have a conversation, and Skittery had forgotten to listen. Oops. 

"Yeah?"

"I saw this flyer at the grocery store, thought it might interest you." He slid a shiny orange pamphlet across the table.

_ National Robotics Challenge : Marion, Ohio _

"Ohio's not far from here," Skittery's dad pointed out. 

That was true, but a competition? The school club had never competed in much of anything, simply because there wasn't really anywhere to  _ compete.  _

Would they be any good? Funding for a robotics club was kinda difficult, and it wasn't like they had any supplies, or even a teacher. They met in a math classroom, for goodness sakes.

Well, it was worth taking a look, at least. 

"Thanks, Dad. I'll take it to school tomorrow. See what the guys think."

His dad nodded, turning back to his own work. What work a football coach did exactly, Skittery wasn't sure. But hey, it obviously paid the bills, and it made Dad happy, so that was good enough for Skittery. 

* * *

Katherine was in over her head, and she wasn't afraid to admit it. 

She had been president of the Key Club for the past two years, and only now was she the  _ sole  _ person running everything, since Marcie graduated. 

Katherine needed help, and she had absolutely no idea who to ask. This year, the club was ninety percent freshmen, and while they were hardworking and great people, none of them were much help in the organizing aspect of everything. 

Katherine was so absorbed in her thoughts, she didn't even notice there was in fact someone else wandering the halls after school. 

Well, she certainly noticed when the flyers she'd just finished copying ended up all over the hall, that was for sure. 

Just to add to the humiliation, Katherine was pretty sure she might just start crying. This day had been  _ just wonderful.  _ She was staring to get a migraine just from being alive.

"Oh, I am so sorry!" It was the new girl. Sarah? Katherine had been meaning to introduce herself, but it just kept slipping her mind.

Sarah (she was pretty sure that was here name) bent to help pick up the flyers. She was impressively efficient, and didn't even crumple any. 

"Thanks," Katherine managed to get out.

"Hey. You alright?" There was concern written all across the girl's soft features as she handed over the papers. 

"I'm fine. Just been one hell of a day, you know?"

Sarah smiled. 

"I know how you feel. I've been walking around for twenty minutes trying to find out where to take this stupid doctors note. This school isn't even that big, so I don't know why everyone insists on sending me all over the place."

"You take it to the administration office," Katherine explained, helpful side taking over immediately. "Come on, I'll come with you."

Sarah nodded gratefully and followed Katherine, who pointed out a few other important offices along the way. 

Sadly, the walk ended entirely too soon, and they stood outside the correct office. 

"I didn't catch your name," Sarah said, turning back just before entering. 

"Katherine. Katherine Pulitzer. Hey," she said suddenly, acting on impulse. "You should come to Key Club. We meet every Monday and Thursday in the Community Room. It's fun, we have snacks, everybody's great."

There was no particular reason why, but Katherine felt like this Sarah girl could definitely become a friend, and good friend at that.

"I'd love to. See you then."

Katherine waved goodbye, and then headed off with a smile. This day had suddenly gotten a lot better.


	12. I declare today and every other day Boots appreciation day.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm back after finishing my other fic, which I gave more attention to only because more people were reading it. 
> 
> Now I'm back with this one and trying to get into the rhythm, so sorry if this is a bit clunky and awkward. 
> 
> If you wanna see more of a specific character, or one I haven't written yet, let me know!

David ran a hand through Lilly's coarse wool, picking out the burrs from her latest escape. 

Today had been really nice. Sarah was at school, and had been welcomed into Jack's friend group just fine, as usual. 

David wouldn't lie and say he wasn't a little jealous of his sister's ability to fit in literally anywhere, but this time, he was making friends just fine too. 

Maybe these people were just nicer, or maybe David was getting better at talking to people. 

His parents were right, he thought with a smile, working away at a particularly stubborn burr in Lilly's wool. 

A new start made a big difference. 

David petted Lilly's stomach, frowning at how bulgy and weird it felt. 

She had been getting kind of chubby lately, but now he worried it might be something serious. 

He got up, making sure to securely latch the gate, and went inside to find his parents. 

"Dad, can you come look at Lilly?"

Mayer looked up from his papers, probably bills if the little frown between his eyes was anything to go by. 

"What's wrong with her?"

He pushed his chair back and followed David out to the field where the little sheep was now trying her hardest to tunnel out. This was despite her being a sheep and thus not really built for tunneling due to having hooves and not claws or paws or any other tunneling tools whatsoever. 

"Her stomach feels weird," David explained, and Mayer frowned. 

"David, she's a sheep. You can't complain about her wool feeling funny."

David shook his head quickly, hiding his irritation as best he could. Why did it always have to circle back to this?

"Not that kind of weird. Weird like she's… lumpier than usual."

Mayer put a hand on the sheep's side, feeling around a bit. 

"Well, she's certainly acting normal," he pointed out, straightening up to get his shirt hem away from Lilly's chewing reach. 

The sheep bleated indignantly at the injustice of her snack being removed, but David easily distracted her with a fistful of grass. 

"The vet is coming on Thursday to check on everybody after the move, I'll ask about her then."

David nodded, following his father back to the house. 

He'd have to make sure his dad actually did ask the vet about Lilly. It wouldn't surprise David at all if he just brushed his concerns off as more of David being picky. 

David knew his sheep, every inch of her. 

He knew that was probably weird, but he didn't care. 

Lilly was the only one who never got upset with him for fussing over her. She loved the attention, and he loved to give it to her. 

David  _ had  _ to make sure she was safe and healthy. 

He owed it to the "little" two hundred pound girl. 

* * *

Finch tossed her video game controller to Crutchie the second he rolled into the living room. 

"Come on, let me destroy you at MarioKart."

Crutchie grinned. 

"I've been better than you at MarioKart since Gamecube," he declared. 

"Lies. Come on. I claim Dry Bones."

Crutchie pretended to scowl at her. 

"Then I get to pick the track." 

Finch nodded seriously, turning on the console. 

MarioKart had been a serious affair since third grade, when Finch's parents bought the kids a used Gamecube and began a lifelong war between friends. 

Crutchie, as usual, beat Finch four out of five times.

"You have an unfair advantage," Finch insisted. "You're used to having wheels. I'm not."

Crutchie laughed. 

"I'm seriously worried for when you eventually have to start driving for real," he teased, though Finch was honestly not bad at MarioKart. Just not  _ quite _ as good as Crutchie. 

Finch unfolded herself from her position on the floor after a few more rounds. 

"I'm hungry. Want some fruit or something?"

Crutchie nodded. He and Finch shared a love of fruit rivaled only by Finch's pet parrot, who started screaming his head off at the word "fruit". 

"Yes, Griffin," Finch cooed to the bird. "I'll give you some too."

She opened the cage and swiftly deposited Griffin into Crutchie's lap, where the bird typically rode like a noble general in his war chariot. 

Unfortunately, the quest for snacks was interrupted in the kitchen by Finch's brother and his friend, who Crutchie sort of knew from school. 

His name was Sean, right? Well, that didn't matter all that much. What mattered was that his nose was dripping blood all over the floor and he was kind of a mess. 

"Boots, I'm  _ fine, _ " he insisted while being shoved into a chair. "It wasn't a big deal-"

Finch interrupted, going from chill gamer Finch to full mama lion in the blink of an eye. 

"Spot Conlon, you absolute moron," she scolded. 

"Who did you pick a fight with this time?"

Crutchie almost laughed at how stern she was, if not for the fact that it was not a funny situation in the slightest. 

"I didn't start this one," the boy, Spot, apparently, grumbled, allowing Finch to mess with a scrape on his arm. 

"Oscar Delancey was talking shit, and I told him to shut up, and he punched me in the face." He shot a look to Crutchie, seemingly asking for support.

"What was I supposed to do, just stand there and take it?"

Crutchie shrugged. He'd never gotten in a physical fight, so he had no idea what he would do.

"I do have a pretty good angle to hit most guys in the family jewels, if it ever were to become necessary," he offered, making Spot laugh.

"Don't encourage him," Boots said, pointing a finger at Crutchie accusingly. 

"Ow, Finch, quit it!" Spot griped, trying and failing to stop Finch's treatments. 

"What are you putting on me, acid?"

"It's disinfectant, dumbass. I don't want you dead, as annoying as you are. So shut up and let me clean you." 

Crutchie knew from experience that when Finch sounded like that, she really meant business. 

But Finch was usually right, he had to admit. She was really smart, he thought, watching her carefully and quickly wipe gravel out of scrapes and put bandages on bigger cuts. 

Finch was probably the only reason any of their friends were alive at this point, considering she had the most brain cells. 

They were pretty lucky to have her. 


	13. Jack having sad boy hours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I speak a bit of Spanish, enough to get by, but I didnt wanna have to check my writing 5 million extra times, or deal with accent marks, so if it's in italics, that means it's being said in spanish. 
> 
> Hispanic Jack and also Snyder is still definitely the worst. 
> 
> TW for brief mentions of abuse, racism, struggles of immigrants

Jack pushed his chair back, trying to avoid any screech or clang against the floor. 

Mr. Snyder was  _ not _ in a good mood today, and Jack didn't want to start anything. 

Peach, Jack's favorite dog, was pregnant, meaning she wasn't able to work like she was supposed to, and Mr. Snyder didn't like having anything that didn't work. 

Luckily, the young border collie was too valuable to the ranch to just be discarded, since she had good bloodlines and plenty of good years of life ahead of her.

Besides, Tucker, the only male dog on the premises, was a valuable stud, so getting rid of Peach was a waste of sellable puppies in the near-ish future. 

But for now, Mr. Snyder was in an exceptionally bad mood, and Jack wanted to get as far away from the man as possible. 

He headed outside, completely ignored by the other, actually hired rather than basically enslaved ranch hands. 

Most of the men who worked on the ranch got along fine with Jack, but kept their distance. 

Jack suspected Mr. Snyder told them they had to, so he wouldn't have anyone asking suspicious questions like "how did you get that black eye when you haven't left the house in two days?"

One exception was Leo, who gave Jack a smile when he went out behind the barn. 

" _ Afternoon, Jack," _ he said, his soft voice a welcome switch from Snyder's growling and yelling. 

" _ Need help?"  _ Jack offered, happy to switch to the more comfortable Spanish he'd grown up with. 

Mr. Snyder did not approve of Jack speaking anything but English, but Leo was happy to keep it a secret. 

The man gestured to a heap of scrap metal that should have been recycled or tossed well before now. 

" _ Mr. Snyder wants it sorted and sold for scrap," _ he explained as Jack pulled on the offered work gloves to help. 

Jack set to work, almost enjoying the monotony of it. 

He didn't have to think about the work, so he could just talk to Leo, and listen to the older man's stories of his kids and their antics. 

It was… nice, yet somehow made Jack sad. 

He wondered if his own father would be proud of him now, if he knew everything Jack had done with himself.

Probably not. Jack mostly just messed things up and got into trouble. 

He hadn't even  _ met  _ the guy who was partially responsible for his existence. Didn't even have a picture to look at, to see if he really did have his dad's eyes like Mama said, or if she was just making that up. 

" _ Jack, if you only learn one thing from me, make sure it's this. If you forget to pick up your children from school, buy them ice cream after. Kids will keep any secret in exchange for ice cream." _

Leo's eyes held the same familiar smile that made Jack wish, not for the first time, that things were different for both of them. 

It made him wish Mr. Snyder wasn't the boss here, and that Leo could argue about pay and hours without worrying that the man would ruin his life over paperwork that shouldn't matter in the first place. 

But it didn't matter what Jack wished, what mattered was surviving what was. 

" _ I'll remember that for if I ever find a girl who wants to tolerate me,"  _ Jack laughed, and was about to say more, before he was interrupted. 

"Jack."

The voice behind him was unmistakable, and made Jack's next words stick in his throat. 

Mr. Snyder heard him talking Spanish. He wasn't supposed to speak Spanish because that meant he wasn't trying, that he was reverting back to old habits and he'd become a delinquent again. 

He was messed up and a screw up, and Mr. Snyder was going to be so angry, and he'd have to punish him, and Jack wasn't sure he could take that right now, not with how angry the man had been lately. 

"Miriam just called. She's coming to check in at seven."

The man looked Jack up and down. 

"Clean yourself up for her."

Jack breathed a sigh of relief when Snyder left. 

If his social worker was coming, that meant Mr. Snyder couldn't hit him. He was safe for now. 

_ " _ Sorry Leo," Jack said softly, taking off his gloves. 

"I guess you're on your own for this one. I'll come back when she leaves."

That wasn't a promise he could likely keep. Once Miriam left, Leo would more than likely be done already, and Jack would have to stay in the house because of his stupid curfew. 

Leo smiled anyway, still speaking Spanish in spite of the fact that Snyder might still be able to hear them. 

The man was braver than Jack, that was for sure. 

_ "Of course, Jack. You go on now. I have this." _

Jack tried to return the smile, but wasn't sure if it quite worked. 

He turned and headed back to the house, hoping that Miriam wouldn't say anything to piss off his foster father today. 


	14. Crutchie is our hero

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea where I'm going with this story, so like... suggestions are appreciated.

Crutchie rolled up to the lunch table, where Racetrack was telling a dramatic, probably made up story about his brush with death on the way to school. 

Crutchie had just had his own brush with death, when Oscar Delancey thought it would be absolutely hilarious to "accidentally" spill hot food all over his head, thus why he was late to lunch from having to change clothes. 

Oscar and Morris made such a habit of messing with Crutchie, he had to keep clothes in his locker just in case. 

But he got them back, occasionally. 

Oscar accidentally dropped pizza on Crutchie, Crutchie accidentally crushed his toes under one wheel. 

It was a good system that Crutchie was looking forward to ending when the Delanceys graduated this year. 

David, the new guy, walked up to the table, looking more riled up than Crutchie had ever seen him before. 

The guy was bouncing on his heels and jabbing his fists into his sides like he was flapping wings. 

Crutchie wondered what would happen if one of the Delanceys happened to take notice of David. Nothing good, probably. They'd have so much fun picking on someone like him. 

"What's wrong, David?" 

Jack asked, pulling up a chair that was completely ignored. 

"My sheep is pregnant!"

David announced, setting down his tray of food while still just standing next to the chair. 

"Congrats," Finch said at the exact same time as Crutchie said "You have a sheep?"

David nodded happily, finally seeming to notice the chair and sit down. 

"My family raises a bunch. Lilly is mine, I raised her from a baby cause her mom died."

He pulled out his phone, excitedly showing the screen to everyone, especially Jack, Crutchie noticed. 

It was a sheep. Pretty much just an ordinary sheep, except it had a pink collar on. 

"Isn't she great?"

Crutchie nodded, even though he really didn't see what was so great about a sheep.

If it was special to David, he could pretend.

This was the most the guy had talked all week, and Crutchie wasn't about to ruin it by being a jerk. 

"She's doing really-"

David froze mid sentence when a hand touched his shoulder. 

"You're not allowed to have that out."

One of the lunch monitors had snuck up on the table without anyone noticing.

Crutchie watched as David instantly switched over from happy and excited to totally shut off. 

Sarah's face changed from relaxed to defensive, and Crutchie saw her reach under the table and grab David's hand. 

He stared wide eyed at the woman, who was now getting even more annoyed at being ignored. 

"Give it here," she snapped. 

David's hands trembled, and he gripped his sister's hand tight under the table. Crutchie couldn't stand to see anybody that upset, even if it was over something kind of stupid. 

"Ma'am, he was just showing us pictures for a project," he explained, turning his best "Innocent Kid Who Would Never Cause Problems" face on the woman. 

Crutchie was well aware of the effect he had on teachers. They always seemed to let him get away with anything, and Crutchie was just fine with taking advantage of that. 

"David's new, he didn't know about the phone policy yet."

Her face softened just a bit, and Crutchie felt a familiar surge of triumph. 

_ Works every time. _

"Well, just put it away, alright?" 

Sarah nudged David in the leg, and he gave a tiny nod. The teacher seemed satisfied, and left them in peace. 

Well, mostly peace. David still looked like he wanted to go run away somewhere. 

"David, it's okay," Finch said quietly, and she and Sarah shared a look. 

Crutchie wondered what that was about. 

David didn't seem to agree that it was okay, and stared at his hands. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a rock. 

Crutchie watched, though everybody else had gone back to their conversations, as David rolled it over in his hand. 

He pressed the stone to his mouth, rubbing it against his lips. 

David was a bit of a weird guy, Crutchie had to admit, but if kissing rocks made him happy, who was he to judge? 

It wasn't like it hurt anybody. 

"Hey, David." 

Crutchie attempted to bring the other boy back into the conversation.

"Do you play any sports?"

David shook his head, apparently not interested in talking. 

"He's real strong," Jack offered. 

"Bet he'd destroy everyone on the wrestling team if he tried."

David smiled a tiny bit at that. "I'm not that strong," he said, barely above a whisper. 

"Yeah you are," Jack insisted, turning to Crutchie and gesturing wildly with his arms.

He had several new bruises on his wrists, Crutchie noticed. That wasn't good. 

Well, if things got worse, he'd mention it. For now, it was none of his business. 

Besides, Jack liked attention, and right now he was chattering up a storm, so obviously he was fine. 

"We're neighbors, and I saw him just pick up a sheep, like, a full grown sheep, like she was  _ nothing _ . Just picked her up and walked off."

Sarah laughed. 

"He's been carrying Lilly around since she was born. If I was trapped in a burning building with Lilly, he'd save the sheep, no contest."

She poked David in the side, and he squeaked. 

"Well, you have thumbs!" He defended, looking much more relaxed now. 

"She couldn't get herself out, could she?"

Crutchie laughed, concerns about Jack shoved to the back of his mind. 

Now all he had to do was help keep the new kid from getting his ass kicked in, and this year would be just as great as it seemed like it would be. 


	15. Questionably sourced meat to the brain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alternate title: Slow Burn? Who is she?
> 
> Tw for referenced bullying, ablesim
> 
> In which :  
> I introduce ALL the ships into one chapter.  
> Because have you met a high schooler?  
> Sometimes slow burn just isnt how it happens. 
> 
> (And I didn't feel like writing slow burn anymore because it takes too long and I had way too many ships to stick in and I dont want this fic to be like 80 chapters)

Finch flopped down in the bleachers next to Sarah. It was nice to have a girl friend to hang out with sometimes, she had to admit. It was also nice to not be the only mom friend anymore. 

Keeping this group of crackheads alive was a full time job, and Sarah's support was greatly appreciated. 

Finch had gotten Boots to come along on the condition that Spot could join in, meaning Racetrack was absolutely not paying any attention to the game. 

"Hey Boots." Finch wasn't about to let Racetrack spend this whole game  _ not _ talking to his crush who was three feet away, and Boots was the perfect one to get them talking.

"Make Spot and Race go with you to get food. Racer's puppy eyes are driving me nuts."

Boots snorted a laugh. 

"Alright. But if Spot's too thick to notice, that's not on me. Hey, Spot, Race, come help me, Finch is being a demanding jerk."

Finch flipped her brother the bird, but she was hiding a smile. 

Racetrack looked absolutely distraught, but he went with the other boys anyway. 

Now Finch could focus on the game. 

She didn't particularly care for basketball in itself, especially not when she had to drive for over an hour to get to the game, but Finch  _ did _ care for Crutchie, who was currently playing in this particular game. 

Finch didn't want to think about how Crutchie looked very nice in the color red. They'd been friends for  _ years _ . She couldn't go catching  _ feelings _ for him. 

Crutchie spun in his chair in such a way that it was a miracle he didn't flip over, and Finch reflected that it was probably a bit too late for her to avoid feelings. 

Besides, feelings were fine. Crutchie probably didn't feel the same way, so she'd just not tell him. It would be just fine. 

Boots came back and chucked a foil-wrapped hotdog at Finch's head before sitting back down, interrupting her thoughts with questionably sourced meat to the brain. 

Racetrack and Spot were in the middle of an animated conversation about a saxophone playing robot that they'd apparently both seen online. 

"Your welcome," Boots said with a grin. 

Finch shook her head and turned to Sarah, who was not an idiot. 

"Brothers, am I right?" 

Sarah smiled a little, but Finch couldn't miss the quick little glance she gave David. 

Finch immediately felt bad. That joke could easily be taken as a jab at Sarah's brother, and that was just cruel. 

Sarah had told Finch a lot about David. Apparently he had always been like that. Just a tiny bit odd, always struggling with simple things while excelling at difficult ones. 

Mostly though, Sarah told her, David was sensitive. He hated loud noises, hated attention, and unfortunately, wasn't all that great at the whole "talking to people" thing. 

Right now, David looked like he would rather be anywhere but in this gymnasium, and half hid behind Jack. 

"Looks like your brother's taken a shine to Cowboy," Finch commented, hoping to make it clear that she meant no insult. 

Sarah smiled a little more genuinely at that. 

"I'm glad he's made a real friend," she admitted.

"He's made more than one," Finch said. "We all think David's cool. And you. I can't even  _ begin _ to tell you how tired I was of testosterone," Finch lamented, making Sarah laugh. 

"I guess that would get annoying," she agreed as Boots and Spot got into an argument over something that was probably incredibly stupid. 

"Yeah. So thanks for not being a crackhead." 

Sarah shook her head with a little smile. 

"Thanks for being so friendly. It's not been great, moving here halfway through high school. But it's better than before, I guess."

Finch frowned. 

"What happened before, if you don't mind me prying?"

Sarah sighed, looking away from Finch and back to David, who was sort of having half a conversation with Jack. Jack was definitely doing most of the talking. 

"People were not all that great to David. He… he didn't really know… he couldn't make friends, at all. There was this one group of boys…" Sarah trailed off. 

"We moved after he came home all bloody. It was awful, he didn't understand what he did wrong…" Sarah blinked away tears, and Finch put an arm around her shoulders. 

"Hey, that's not gonna happen here. I promise. Don't get me wrong," she said quickly, "We've got our fair share of assholes. But we won't let anybody hurt him. After all," Finch smiled. 

"You're one of us now."

* * *

After the game, they waited for Crutchie outside of the building. It was dark out, but still early enough into the year that it was warm. 

David looked more than happy to be outside and away from the crowd, though he still stood very close to Jack. 

Jack didn't seem to mind at all, which was a surprise. As long as Finch had known him, Jack had always had an aversion to being touched until he really got to know someone. 

Apparently David had bypassed all the usual weeks of becoming friends, and just settled neatly into the role of… whatever it was he and Jack had going on. 

Wasn't any of Finch's business. 

Crutchie rolled up beside them, and David was surprisingly the first to speak, strangely excited considering he'd seemed absolutely uninterested in the entire game. 

“I didn’t know people like you could play sports!”

Finch saw Crutchie’s face shift just a bit at David’s bluntness, and for one fleeting, guilty moment, she understood why people got mad at David. 

"David!" Sarah scolded, making him flinch away, ducking his head awkwardly. 

Crutchie looked hurt, and more than a little irritated, but only for half a moment, and then he was back to smiling. 

“Yep! It's lots of fun. Let's go get food," he suggested, clearly changing the subject. 

"I'm starving. My arms are  _ dead." _

Finch snuck a look at David, who now had his hands shoved deep into his pockets, frowning intently at the sidewalk. 

Jack lightly put a hand on the other boy's shoulder, making him jump. 

Finch turned away, giving them privacy for reasons she wasn't quite sure of. 

Something about the way Jack looked at David, all soft and gentle, made Finch wonder. 

But it wasn't her business. 

What  _ was _ her business was the fact that Crutchie was waiting for her, and she wanted to spend time with her friend. Just friend. Nothing more than friend. 


	16. Things are gonna start to happen quick fastly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm struggling with this fic cause I know where I'm going, just not really how to get there.  
> Its chugging along tho!

Peach thudded her feathered black and white tail proudly, four tiny black and brown bundles of fur nestled up to her belly. 

Jack crouched in the straw behind Mr. Snyder, who, as usual, was  _ not _ happy with the situation. 

“No way those are his pups,” Snyder said, nodding at Tucker, who was currently sleeping just a few feet away. 

It was true. Even just a few hours old, it was obvious the new puppies weren’t purebred border collies. Maybe they had some shepherd, or even rottweiler mixed in. 

They were cute though, Jack had to admit. 

Apparently Mr. Snyder didn't agree with him on that, though. 

"Put 'em in a sack and dump it in the river. We don't have time for puppies that can’t even be sold." 

Jack hesitated. 

He was no stranger to death. Living on a ranch, it was inevitable. But there was a difference between shooting a coyote that tried to eat the chickens and drowning a litter of innocent puppies for no reason at all. 

“You hear me, Jack?” It was both a question and a warning, and one Jack knew better than to ignore or disobey. He liked keeping his skin intact, thank you very much. 

"Yessir."

Snyder tossed him an empty bag and left. 

Jack picked up the puppies as carefully as possible, hating himself more and more as Peach watched. The gentle dog made no attempt to stop him, she trusted the boy so completely. He was betraying her. 

Puppies deposited in the bag, he saddled Dancer as slowly as possible. 

Peach was starting to get antsy, not liking being separated from her new puppies, who now whined louder than Jack would have thought possible for such tiny things. 

Peach gave a low growl as Jack swung into the saddle, a sound she had never made, or at least not directed at Jack. 

"I'm sorry, girl," he said softly. 

Peach's fur stood on end, and she snapped at Dancer's legs like she'd gone feral. 

The horse snorted nervously and sidestepped away from the angry dog. 

Jack urged Dancer into a trot, desperately wanting to get this over with. 

Peach ran after him for a while, barking furiously, but she was clearly drained after giving birth. Eventually the young dog collapsed in a heap. Jack made the mistake of turning over his shoulder, only to see Peach struggling to get up and follow, despite her obvious exhaustion. 

Jack had never hated himself more in his life.

At the bank of the river, Jack slid off Dancer's back. One of the puppies whimpered from inside the bag at the shift of movement, and his heart broke. He couldn't kill them. He just couldn't. 

Jack immediately climbed back on the horse and rode off in the direction of the only place he could think to go; David's house. If he was quick, Mr. Snyder wouldn't notice. 

* * *

David looked up from his studying with a jolt at the sound of banging on the door. 

That was annoying. He had the whole house to himself for once, meaning peace and quiet, and somebody had to come along and ruin it. 

He set his book upside down on the couch to keep his page, and went to see who it was, knocking so aggressively. 

He opened it, and was greeted by a breathless Jack Kelly on the porch, a horse halfway down the drive, and a wiggling bag in Jack’s hands that made suspiciously alive-sounding sounds. 

"Dave. Needja ta take these. Puppies. Didn't know who else to ask." 

The bag was thrust into David's hands and he nearly dropped it immediately in surprise. 

He opened it quickly, gently setting four little balls of fluff on the tiled floor. 

Puppies. What the heck were they going to do with puppies? Newborn puppies, too. Really new. 

Where the heck did Jack get them?

"Jack, wait!" He called. Jack was already climbing back on his horse. 

"I'll explain it all at school. If I dont get back, he'll know somethin' was up."

Jack nudged the horse into motion, waving over his shoulder as they left. 

"Who'll know?" David shouted, but Jack was in too much of a hurry. 

"Promise, I'll explain it all tomorrow." 

David sighed and turned back to the four puppies. They were so tiny. Eyes still shut, they wriggled blindly on the tile, squeaking pitifully.

"Well. I guess you're staying here then, huh?" He bent to pick them up. Good thing the Jacobs family always had formula on hand. 

He scooped two tiny puppies into each arm and headed for the kitchen. 

It had been awhile since the Jacobs family had owned a dog. Maybe it was about time that changed. 


	17. Author is struggling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I dont like this chapter, but I'm posting it anyway, because I am feeling things, so I am projecting.
> 
> Tw for ableism

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am really struggling with this fic. Its fighting me every chapter and I think it is winning. 
> 
> I don't want to abandon it, because I know there are still people reading, but it is not going the direction I planned and I'm really having a lot of trouble.  
> I've written myself into a hole, and I have no idea how to get myself out of it. 
> 
> I may end up rewriting everything, deleting this one, and reposting the new version, but I havent decided yet.  
> If I do that, it will be awhile before I am able to post it, and I apologize for that. 
> 
> This fic is not my best work, and I dont like posting things I'm not proud of. 
> 
> I'd appreciate any feedback.

David went into school the next day feeling a bit more energetic than usual. 

His parents were fine with the puppies, and Sarah and Les were absolutely thrilled. 

Day old puppies took quite a bit of work, but the Jacobs' veterinarian was confident that the puppies would be fine. 

He wondered why Jack had brought them to their house. 

It didn't make sense; they were so small, and cute, and perfect. Who wouldn't want them?

David walked into the cafeteria with less dread than usual, for once interested in talking to someone rather than hating the noise. 

"Hey Davey," Jack greeted with a smile. 

David sat down next to him.

"Where'd you get the puppies, Jack?"

"Puppies?" Crutchie asked, obviously confused. 

"Jack dropped off a litter of newborn puppies at our house yesterday," Sarah explained, taking a seat next to Finch. 

"It's just lucky I've bottle raised lambs before," David added. And lucky the puppies were willing to eat. 

Jack looked sheepish.

"Sorry. Guess I just wasn't thinking straight. Couldn't just kill 'em like Snyder wanted."

David was disgusted, and not by Jack. 

"He wanted you to kill them? Why? They're perfectly sweet, healthy puppies from what my folks said."

"Peach, their mom, didn't want anything to do with 'em,” Jack said. 

“Guess he figured they'd starve anyway, so might as well just drown 'em so it'd be quicker.”

David snorted in disbelief. 

"Because those are the only two options, obviously."

Jack bristled at the sarcasm. 

"Well it's not like I was happy with it, was I? I don't get much say in it."

"I didn't mean anything against you. You saved them. Just… wow. 

No offense," he said carefully, trying to remember everything he'd been told about tact. 

"I know he's your dad, but this Snyder guy does not sound like my kind of person."

"Snyder is  _ not _ my dad." Jack hissed. 

David flinched at the sudden anger. 

Jack was mad, he was mad at David, he was mad and David had ruined everything and he'd only just made these friends and-

Jack sighed, looking less angry in an instant. 

"Sorry. 'Sa sensitive subject. Shouldn't have snapped at ya."

He offered David a weak smile, and he was about to respond when a crash came from the other side of the cafeteria. David would have sworn the world imploded. It was so loud, so sudden, he wasn't expecting it at all. 

He stumbled away from the table, desperately trying to block out the noise, distract himself by pinching, tapping, rubbing,  _ anything.  _

Someone was  _ touching him.  _ David wanted to jerk away from the touch, but whoever it was kept ahold of his arm. 

Why was it so loud? Everyone was yelling. 

A stranger was holding him, pulling David out into the hall. 

Quiet. 

He curled up on the floor, covering his ears as much as possible, and didn't look at the boy next to him.

How long were they there for? 

David had no idea, but at some point, he could breathe. 

He rubbed the rock Mr. Denton gave him, avoiding the judgement he was sure to see in this new boy's face.

"Are you alright?"

He nodded, still not looking up. 

David was aware of whoever this guy was sitting on the floor next to him. 

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

David looked up in surprise. People didn't offer him help with that. They expected him to fix it himself. He should be able to fix it, right? 

"Who are you?"

David recognized the boy, sort of, but he couldn't recall a name to go with the face. 

"Name's Sebastian, but everybody calls me Skittery."

He gave a crooked smile. 

"The name's because I get skittish about stuff, like you did. Autism, am I right?"

David frowned. 

"I'm not autistic." If he was autistic, surely he would know by now, or his parents would know. That didn't seem like something people would just not know. Unless they  _ did _ know, and just didn't think David deserved to know. 

"Oh, sorry. I shouldn't have assumed. I am, so I thought you were." Skittery changed the subject by pointing to David's rock.

"Mr. Denton?"

David nodded, thumbing the stone with one hand.

"He gave me one too, but I prefer my rubik's cube."

The bell to signal the end of lunch rang, making both of them jump. 

"Quick, before everybody comes storming out!"

Skittery grabbed David's arm and started off down the hall. 

David followed, because what else was he supposed to do?

But now he had to wonder, was this Skittery guy right? And if so, why didn't anyone tell him before?

* * *

Sarah lay in bed, her brothers at either side, fast asleep. 

Mom and Dad had lied. To all of them, but especially to David. 

If the therapist years ago thought he was autistic, didn't David deserve to know? It concerned him most of all. 

Besides, it wasn't even a bad thing, was it?

So why keep it a secret? 

Sarah looked at her brother, gently played with his curly hair.

He looked peaceful when asleep, at least. None of the stress or fidgeting or absently chewing at himself. 

Nobody would think anything was different about David this way. 

Maybe that was why Mom and Dad kept it a secret. So David would get a chance, avoid a label. 

Of course, he got labels anyway, and much crueler ones. 

Weird. Spazz. Loser. Freak. 

Freak was the most common, and the worst. 

Sarah sighed, leaning back with one arm around Les and the other around David. 

David knew he was always welcome in her room if he needed her, and tonight he certainly had. 

Les, of course, refused to be left out, immediately falling asleep while David and Sarah sat together. 

David didn't always want to talk, especially if he was tired and drained. 

Coming home angry and arguing with Mom and Dad was plenty draining for anybody. 

"Sarah, love?"

Bubbe came in soft as a ghost, sitting on the edge of the bed beside David's feet. 

"Are you three alright?"

Sarah nodded, but she wasn't sure it was entirely true. 

"Sarah,  _ zeeskeit, _ you know you can talk to me."

Sarah didn't want to talk, not right now. 

She reached for Bubbe's hand and just held it. 

Bubbe hadn't known, so she hadn't lied. Bubbe was here, ready to talk and listen. 

But all Sarah needed was the part where she was  _ here.  _


	18. Where's Lilly? (Its like where's Waldo except instead of a man wearing bright red it's a pregnant sheep)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we, meaning David, see more of Spot's life.

“Lily’s not in the pen.”

Sarah groaned at the announcement, and David felt bad, even though it wasn't really his fault. 

Luckily, Sarah was ready to take charge, like usual. 

"Alright, let's go find her."

David followed his sister outside. 

"You take the truck, I'll go in the car."

Sarah went down the street one way, and David went the other. They'd just have to talk to the neighbors and hope somebody had found Lilly. 

* * *

David didn't know these neighbors, so he was more than a little nervous to go up and introduce himself. 

He didn't even have a name to go by, just what it said on the battered old mailbox. 

The faded red print was peeling to the point of being unreadable. 

The first letter might have been a C. Or maybe a G. Well, it looked like it was at one point supposed to resemble a letter. 

He took a deep breath and pulled the truck down the gravel driveway. 

Whoever these neighbors were didn't even have a proper house, just a trailer surrounded by scraps and junk. 

A middle aged woman stood on the "porch" of the trailer, sweeping the little bit of concrete that was there. 

She looked up when David got out of the car. 

"Who are you, and what do you want?"

David tried not to cringe, and focused intently on the rock in his pocket. 

"I'm David Jacobs. My family lives down the road, and one of our sheep is missing. Have you seen her?"

David tossed all the words out at once, just wanting to get the conversation over with as soon as possible. 

The woman crossed one arm over her chest before bellowing, “Sean!” 

David jumped in surprise. 

“Sean!” She banged her broom on the side of the trailer, and David winced at the clang of wood on metal. 

“Sean Conlon, get your sorry ass out here ‘fore I come in there an’ drag you out myself.”

Conlon? That was familiar. Like… 

Spot Conlon, from school. David didn't know him, not really, but he knew  _ of  _ him. At this school, everybody knew everybody to some extent. 

Spot came out of the filthy trailer dressed in baggy jeans and a white sleeveless undershirt, and the overall effect was just  _ weird _ . The guy fit in completely with the whole “white trash” aesthetic, and David wasn’t used to that at all. The Spot Conlon he knew from school was cocky and cool, and definitely wouldn’t look right in or next to a grungy trailer. 

Spot’s face changed when he saw David, from bored to surprised to a completely controlled emotionless expression.

“What, Ma?” he scowled. 

“Neighbor boy come lookin’ for a sheep. Where’s the one you found?”

“Round back.”

Spot waved for David to follow him.

David picked his way carefully through the “yard”. 

Good thing he was up to date on his tetanus shot. There was a lot of trash here. 

David sighed with relief when he saw the no longer missing sheep. 

Lily bleated happily when she saw David, running circles in the makeshift pen Spot had apparently constructed with chicken wire and scrap metal. 

“She yours?” Spot asked, leaning casually on the back wall of the trailer. 

“Yeah. We were really worried. She’s pregnant and apparently a real idiot,” David explained, rubbing the sheep on her fuzzy head. 

Spot untied the wire holding the whole pen together and let the sheep out.

She followed David and his handful of treats happily to the truck. He lifted her into the back of the extended cab, making Spot snort a laugh as he watched. 

“What?”

Spot grinned. “First of all, you’re like Mary with the little lamb, the way she follows ya without any leash or anything. Second of all, you have the whole bed of a truck, an’ ya put the sheep in the cab with ya.”

“She won’t be safe in the back,” David defended himself. “What if she jumped out?”

Spot laughed again. 

“You’re a real weird guy, David. See ya around.”

“See ya.” David nodded, starting the truck. 

"Hey, David?"

Spot shifted, looking slightly uncomfortable for the first time ever, as far as David knew. 

"Sorry about my Ma. You got her on a bad day."

David nodded. 

"S'fine. She's scary."

Spot laughed, but even David could tell it was forced. 

He turned and walked back to the trailer without another word, and David pulled out and down the crunchy gravel road. 

He rubbed Lilly's head thoughtfully to keep her from licking his ear. 

David had just gotten a glimpse into Spot’s private life, yet the other boy was still just as mysterious as ever. Though maybe a bit less intimidating. 


	19. Vigilante Justice by Finch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tw for ableism/ableist language, and sexist language.

Crutchie rolled his way along the school hallway with Finch. His teacher always let them leave a little early for lunch, mostly so he wouldn't cause a traffic jam in the lunch lines with the wheelchair.

Finch joined because Mrs. Bruin was stupid and seemed absolutely convinced Crutchie couldn't open doors by himself, or navigate the school without a personal assistant. 

He'd tried explaining to her that he wasn't a kindergartener, nor completely incompetent, so he was fully capable of going down two short hallways and into the cafeteria, but it made no difference. 

Crutchie would have made a fuss about it just on principle, but this way he got to go to lunch with Finch, so really, Mrs. Bruin could go ahead and believe whatever she wanted. 

"You coming to the performance on Saturday?" Finch asked, fiddling with her backpack strap. 

"I wouldn't miss it for anything, " Crutchie promised. 

He loved to watch the band perform, mainly because of Finch, really. She wore a suit, and looked amazing in it, with the shiny instrument and her beautiful dark hair…

Not that Crutchie was going to  _ say  _ that to her, of course. 

No way was he going to mess up his best friend-ship by having  _ feelings. _

"I'm always down to watch the band, you guys are amazing."

Finch pulled the door open. 

"We'd be a lot better if Racetrack would stop texting his lover during practice."

"Oh, so it's official now?" Crutchie asked. Racetrack had apparently been obsessed with Spot Conlon, and lately they'd been "talking".

Finch snorted. 

"No, they're both  _ cowards _ . Spot thinks Race just wants to be friends, cause he has zero social skills, and Racer is still convinced Spotty hates him, in spite of the fact that Spot has never had a problem with him."

She shook her head with a little smile, and Crutchie felt something twist in his stomach. 

Before he could respond, they were interrupted by everyone's least favorite assholes in the entire school.

"Hey, Oscar, look who it is."

Crutchie sighed. He didn't really feel like doing this today. 

"It's the crip. And he's found himself a little side chicky."

Oscar sneered, and only Finch's hand on his arm stopped Crutchie from punching him in the gut. He could deal with insults directed at him, but nobody talked bad about Finch and got away with it. 

"Tweet tweet, right Finchy? Can't catch a guy with working legs?"

Crutchie opened his mouth to tell Oscar to fuck a toaster, but before he could say a thing, Finch was there like a mama tiger. 

"Oh, go jerk off to a water buffalo, Delancey. Don't you have anything better to do than be a dickhead?"

Oscar laughed. "Hey, Morris, looks like the crip's got himself an attack kitten." 

Oh dear, this was not going to end well  _ at all.  _

"Calm down, kitty," he mocked. 

And then suddenly, he wasn't laughing. He had four long scratches down his face, and Finch's eyes were filled with fire. 

How had she moved so fast? One moment Oscar wore a smirk, the next he'd been clawed across the face. 

"You wanna call me kitty?" Finch shouted, making her entire 5'2" look absolutely terrifying. 

Oscar reeled back in shock.

"What the hell, Cortez?"

"You're nuts!" Morris agreed. "Come on. Oscar, let's get away from these freaks."

Crutchie watched in awe as Finch glared daggers into the retreating brothers. 

She turned to Crutchie, and he could practically see her hackles dropping, if she were actually a tiger with hackles to drop. 

"Sorry, Crutchie." Finch looked uncomfortable, but he really couldn't fathom why. 

"Sorry, why are you sorry? Finch, that was the most amazing thing I've ever seen!"

She frowned, staring at the ground between them. 

"I know you don't need me to stand up for you. You're plenty good at doing that yourself. I just got so  _ mad…" _

"Hey," Crutchie punched Finch playfully in the ribs.

"Sure, I  _ can  _ tell Oscar he's a dickhead, but I appreciate it when you do it for me too. Besides, he was being as much a jerk to you as he was to me. Y ou've got just as much right to hate the Delanceys as I do, and even I need a break from being the snarky one."

He grinned. 

"Besides, did you see the look on his  _ face?"  _

Finch laughed. 

"He didn't expect me to go all feral on him, that's for sure." 

Crutchie smiled. That was a memory he wouldn't soon forget. 

"So yeah, Oscar's a dumbass piece of trash, and he's just as much a jerk to you as he is to me. Today was just your turn to fight him. Believe me, if you hadn't, I would have. " 

Finch smiled, looking relieved. 

"I'm always happy to knock the Delancey's down a peg or two. Or seventeen. Now time for lunch." 

She switched over to Organized, Responsible Finch in the blink of an eye. 

Crutchie was going to ignore the fact that he deeply admired both Mom-Finch and Chaos-Finch, and in more than just a friendly way. 

Finch pushed her way through the doors. "That interruption took entirely too long, and vigilante justice gives me an appetite."


	20. Finch is god

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if this feels like a lot happening at once. I dont have a load of inspiration for this fic, and I'm honestly just fighting to tie up everyone's stories before I end it.  
> I've got plans for Jack and everybody, so dont worry about that!
> 
> Tw for mentions of child and drug abuse

"Finch, I gotta tell you something."

Finch and Crutchie were at Finch's house again, messing around and "doing homework" if anyone parental asked. 

She set down her peanut butter crackers and looked him in the eyes. 

"Let me guess, you're pregnant, and it's Morris Delancey's baby."

She deadpanned, and Crutchie squawked indignantly, not actually saying any words, just making insulted noises much like Finch's parrot did when someone came into the room and didn't give him their undivided attention. 

"Biologically impossible, and also disgusting. Not  _ him. _ "

Finch was having a bit of a strange mood due to having done math for the past two hours. 

She used to be smart, but then Algebra happened. 

"Oh, so you admit you are pregnant?"

"Finch, seriously!"

The seriousness in Crutchie's voice caught Finch off guard, seeing as she had been throwing crackers at his head and reading dad jokes out loud from a magazine just a moment before. 

"I-I really like you, like, like you like you."

Crutchie looked like he regretted saying it as soon as it was out. 

"Dude." Finch felt like she might just fall over. 

No way. No  _ freaking _ way. 

Crutchie looked sick, and Finch realized she should probably say something more before he threw himself into the creek, chair and all.

"Me too! I mean, I like you back! Not that I like me! Well, I do like me, but not like, the same way I like you," Finch babbled, losing her composure and possibly her mind. 

"Really?" Crutchie squeaked. "Why? I mean, you could get anyone, so why me?"

“Crutchie Morris, you really have some nerve being the cutest, sweetest boy in the entire city, and then you go and ask me what I see in you!”

Finch threw a cracker at Crutchie, and it bounced off his forehead. 

He didn't seem to notice at all. 

"Well, what now?"

Finch munched another cracker thoughtfully. 

"I guess we elope and move to literally anywhere away from this stupid town."

Crutchie nodded seriously. 

"Of course. Finishing high school? Why do that?"

Finch laughed, but before they could make any further plans, the front door slammed, and Boots came tramping into the house. 

He was not happy, she could tell that much immediately. 

Stupid brother, interrupting this important moment in her and Crutchie's relationship. 

"Finch! Finch, I need you!"

Shoot, he sounded upset. Finch got to her feet and gestured for Crutchie to follow. 

When something got Boots genuinely upset, it was probably serious. Crutchie's help might be necessary. Besides, they were dating? Maybe? They hadn't actually established that…

Shit. 

The sight that greeted them in the kitchen was enough to make all thoughts of whatever was going on with Crutchie and her seem completely inconsequential. 

Boots' best friend, Spot, was here, and once again, he'd gone and gotten himself beat into a pulp. 

It was bad this time though.

Real bad. He was more bloody than not, and he looked ready to collapse. 

Finch really did not know what to do.   
  


* * *

Boots sighed in relief at how quickly his sister took control. Spot was a mess, but luckily, Finch always seemed to know just what to do. 

"Spot, sit down," she ordered, going to grab the first aid kit. 

Spot was really beat up, worse than Boots had ever seen before. 

"What happened?"

He already knew the answer, but he had to ask. 

"Oscar happened. But it wasn't just him this time. That's the only reason I couldn't finish it. He had a whole fucking brute squad, the asshole."

Boots rubbed his eyes, trying and failing not to get too frustrated. 

"Spot, when your mom finds out-"

Spot exploded suddenly, like Boots had kicked him.

"She's not gonna notice, Boots! And even if she did, she wouldn't care."

Boots recoiled at the outburst. Spot was snippy pretty consistently, but nothing like this.

"Know what I came home to yesterday? I get home from school, and Mom's passed out on the couch. I have  _ no fucking clue  _ what drugs she took, cause the bottle wasn't labeled." He glared at Boots, eyes on fire. 

"And then she woke up, still out of it. She thought I was breaking in to the stupid dump heap, and I had to find a way to cover up another fucking black eye. I just didn't expect Oscar to have fucking backup, okay?"

Boots was going to be sick. 

He knew Mrs. Conlon had problems, but he had no idea she had  _ ever _ hurt Spot. 

Was that the reason for  _ all _ the fights? Just a way to explain away bruises?

Boots' mind immediately went back to the countless scuffles Spot had gotten into in the past. Surely they hadn't  _ all _ been because of Mrs. Conlon, right?

Spot had stood up and started pacing, legs worryingly unsteady. 

"How do I call the police about that? She gets arrested. Then what? I'm alone. I'll wind up like Kelly, just free labor for some jerk who doesn't wanna pay a ranch hand. No thank you."

Finch returned with the first aid kit. 

"Spot. Sit. Down."

He sat. 

Nobody argued with Finch when she got like that.

"Spot, I know it's not really my place," they all turned towards the soft voice, and Boots suddenly realized that Crutchie was right there, looking kind of uncomfortable.

"But you're hurt. You need to get help."

Spot put his head in his hands.

"I  _ can't.  _ Where am I supposed to go?"

He looked so hurt, so small. Boots felt awful. 

"You'll stay here," Finch declared. 

Spot looked up, confused. 

"What?"

"You heard me. You stay here, and your mom can either get it together, or you stay here until you're old enough to get your own place."

Boots realized with surprise that that was actually a pretty solid idea. 

Their parents wouldn't mind, he was sure, and they had the space.

"Finch, you're a genius," he declared, hugging his sister. 

She grinned. "I know. Finally, you've recognized this fact. Now come on." 

She turned back to Spot. 

"I'm cleaning you up. Boots, call mom."

Boots pulled out his phone. 

Thank the stars for his bossy older sister.


	21. Rabbits and Puppies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I still feel like this story is chaos, but people seem to enjoy it, so imma keep writing it!

David fidgeted with the stone in his pocket. He  _ hated _ group projects. 

He'd have to talk to someone, assuming he could find a partner, when he didn't  _ really _ know anybody here. Of course Mr. Denton didn't assign partners and just let them choose their own. 

The only person David knew in this class was Jack, and Jack probably had other friends he'd rather work with and- "Hey, Davey, wanna be partners?"

David jumped in his seat, which he actually hadn't stood up from yet. 

"Jack? What? I mean, sure, yeah. Don't you wanna work with your friends or something?"

Jack laughed, but David wasn't sure why. 

"You're my friend too, Davey. Besides, I only know Mush in here, and we wouldn't get anything done. Besides," he gave David a crooked smile, nodding to Mush and Blink, already flipping through Mush's copy of the book. 

"I'm pretty sure Mushy'd rather work with his lover over there."

The two were sitting much closer than they needed to be, David realized, and besides, he wasn't going to complain about working with Jack. 

"Alright, so do you want to work at your place or mine?"

David personally would much rather have Jack over to his house than go somewhere unfamiliar, but he didn't want to  _ force _ the other boy to do anything he didn't want to. 

"Yours," Jack said quickly, much to David's relief. 

"My foster dad won't want us over at our place."

David nodded and wrote his phone number down on one of his many notecards.

"Here's my number so we can decide when and stuff."

Mr. Denton said they'd need to work on this outside of class quite a bit, meaning David would have to come up with a way to keep Les out of their hair. 

The bell rang, jolting David from his thoughts.

"See ya soon, Davey," Jack said, slinging his backpack over one shoulder. 

"See ya, Jack."

* * *

Jack looked around the Jacobs' family barn. He'd been neighbors with Mrs. Jacobs, David's grandmother, for years, but never actually been on the property. 

Les, David's younger brother, insisted on giving him a tour of the house, barn, and yard-area, where Peach's puppies were happily playing in the sun.

Jack was relieved to see they'd all survived, and seemed to be growing quickly.

The Jacobs family barn was much more homey than Mr. Snyder's. His was clearly a business farm, whereas the Jacobs' barn was cozy and looked like a nice place set up for the sheep to live. 

The sheep, and more rabbits than Jack had ever seen one person own. 

Frankly it seemed excessive to Jack, but Les was clearly very proud of his fluffy little animals. 

"So you raise 'em for meat?" He asked. They didn't really look like meat rabbits, but they definitely weren't angoras for making wool. 

Les looked horrified at the suggestion.

"No, no, Les," David said quickly. "Jack is  _ not  _ going to eat your rabbits." He turned to Jack. "They're pets. Just for fun. He shows them in 4-H every year, and they always do really good."

Les looked less distraught now and more proud. 

"Oreo won first place last year!" He pointed to the aptly named black and white ball of fluff. 

"Congratulations," Jack said, though the idea of raising animals "just for fun" was a new one to him. Snyder would never allow anything on his ranch that didn't pull its own weight. 

Maybe winning first place counted? It wasn't like 4-H had cash prizes. 

"Want to go get started on the project?"

David offered, saving Jack from Les giving him a formal introduction to every single rabbit in the entire barn. 

He followed David into the house, also much more welcoming than Snyder's ranch house, followed by four clumsy bumbling puppies. 

David lifted the puppies two at a time up the porch stairs and let them in the house. 

What was he going to do, Jack wondered, when they inevitably peed everywhere and made a mess?

Well, that was David's problem, he supposed. 

Or at least, that's what Jack tried to tell himself. But David was obviously really sensitive, and Jack didn't want to know what would happen if his parents got angry with him. 

"Shouldn't they stay outside?"

Jack suggested, gesturing to the puppies, who by now were very invested in burrowing and chewing on their fluffy blankets in the corner. 

David looked confused.

"They'll get eaten by something, Jack."

He lifted one puppy up and held it close to his chest. 

"Look how tiny. A cat could probably eat one."

That was an obvious exaggeration, but Jack got the point. Well, he didn't  _ really  _ get it, because if he did, he wouldn't be so worried about leaving puppies unattended in the kitchen. 

"They can't reach the trash or anything, so it's fine," David assured him, bouncing back on his heels as he set the puppy back with his siblings. 

"They can still make a mess."

David snorted a laugh. 

"Yeah, I know. And when they do, I'll clean it up. Come on, let's go work on the project."

David sure had a one-track mind sometimes, Jack thought, a smile creeping up on him in spite of his worry. 

Well, it was David's house, so he would definitely know the rules better than Jack did. 

If this family was okay with puppy chaos in their house, then Jack was pretty sure he was going to get along just fine with all of them. 


	22. Author is not feeling very cash money rn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm really excited to have this fic done, gonna be honest. I'm just not super inspired, though I might come back and edit/rewrite it in the future, if I find myself ready to devote more time and energy to it.

The boys made a surprising amount of progress, considering Les popped in to talk to Jack approximately every five minutes. 

David's focus was downright miraculous, and Jack was totally ready to admit, the only reason they got as much work done as they did. 

It was nice, hanging out with Davey. He was quiet, a welcome change of pace from Jack's other friends. As much as he loved Race and the rest of the guys, they were masters of straight up chaos, and even Jack needed a break every now and then. 

His phone buzzed, interrupting the sketch Jack was doing to attach to their poster. 

**Mr. Snyder**

_ I'll be picking you up at 6. Miriam is coming to talk.  _

Jack felt his stomach drop. Why was his social worker coming to check up on him so soon? She'd only just visited a few weeks ago. 

Maybe someone noticed the black eye from a few days ago, or any of the other suspicious things Jack always did. 

Whatever the reason, Snyder wasn't going to be happy about this visit. Jack was going to have to be careful. 

"Hey Davey, looks like my ride is coming soon. Ready to get this wrapped up for now?" 

David blinked away the focus clouding his eyes. 

"What? Oh, yeah, sure."

He shifted from where the boys were seated on the soft carpeted floor, and Jack followed, stretching the tightness from his legs. 

Jack grew more and more nervous with every second, every step he took down the stairs. 

If Miriam asked questions, Jack was really in for it. He didn't know why she was coming, so he couldn't get any good answers ready. 

All too soon, the familiar black truck crunched into the gravel driveway, and Jack straightened up, grabbing his school supplies. 

Mayer, David's father, came outside with a friendly wave, followed by the puppies. 

_ Shit. _

Jack's heart pounded. What if Snyder recognized them? He was so dead. 

He'd been told to drown them, but he didn't, and here was the evidence right here, four very noisy, very alive little puppies. 

The puppies milled around Mayer's legs, yipping crazily at this intruder. 

"Hey there. We haven't had the pleasure of meeting," Snyder said, voice so friendly it made Jack sick. 

"Isaiah Snyder."

Mayer shook his hand, speaking loudly to be heard over the Migraine Gang, aka Peach's four puppies. 

"Mayer Jacobs. David's dad, obviously."

Jack felt his breath hitch as Snyder stared at the puppies. Surely he didn't recognize them? They looked so different. 

He was just staring because they were so noisy. 

_ Please let that be the reason.  _

"Fine dogs you got there, Mayer," his voice was even, almost bored, but Jack heard an edge to it and knew it was directed at him. 

"My son, David, he found them tossed in a sack in the creek. Poor things must have floated onto our property. Just lucky he was there to pull them out." Mayer was frowning now. 

"I have no respect for folks who'd kill defenseless animals without reason."

Mr. Snyder nodded in agreement, and Jack hated him all the more for lying to Mayer.

Snyder turned to Jack, who was just now realizing that David was staring at him. 

"We'd better get going, Jack. Hop in."

Jack obeyed immediately, giving Davey an awkward little wave. 

David cocked his head, clearly confused, but waved back.

The truck pulled out, and Jack couldn't decide whether or not to bring up the puppies. 

"Why's he looking at you like that?"

Jack jumped at the question. 

"Like what?"

Snyder's voice dropped dangerously. 

"Like you've told him something, Jack. Something you shouldn't have. What happened, boy? And I want the truth."

"Nothing!" Jack squeaked out quickly. "David's just weird like that. He does lots of weird things. He's weird," Jack babbled, feeling awful for saying such things about his friend, but not bad enough to risk angering his foster father. 

Thank goodness, he seemed to believe Jack. 

He wasn't even lying; he hadn't told Davey anything. If Davey figured something out, he'd done it on his own. 

Jack stared out the window, dreading the conversation with Miriam and Snyder's inevitable fury afterwards. He couldn't decide if having Davey tell someone would be entirely a bad thing or not. 


	23. Jack is not having a very cash money time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tw for mentions of abuse
> 
> Please excuse my terrible characterization, I'm doin my best for this, Jack is a struggle for me just as a whole.

Jack didn't know who had called Miriam, but Mr. Snyder wasn't happy about it one bit. 

Of course, while the social worker was there, he'd been normal and friendly, all concerned and the ideal parental figure for someone like Jack. 

"It's nice to know folks are looking out for the kids around, but there's nothing to worry about here, right, Jack?"

And it wasn't like Jack could tell Miriam the truth. Snyder would kill him. So he just nodded, and smiled, and carefully listed off things about the ranch that he liked, Dancer, the dogs, having enough to eat. 

Jack laughed away the bruises as accidents, from horses or work or friends, and like usual, Miriam didn't question him.

He couldn't explain everything, though. At least, not to Mr. Snyder. 

Miriam had just left the house after staying for dinner and talking for long enough after that Jack almost hoped Mr. Snyder would forget to be pissed at him. 

The woman seemed to have a "thing" for Mr. Snyder, which might have been why she believed all the lies so readily. 

It did keep the man in a slightly better mood when Miriam was flirting, but Jack didn't have to like it. 

And now that she was gone, and Jack was alone in the kitchen with Mr. Snyder, the man had time to make good on some of the dangerous looks Jack had been given all through dinner.

"Those Jacobs dogs look an awful lot like the ones we had in the barn, don't they, Jack?"

Jack continued washing the dishes without looking up. 

"I don't know much about that. All the dogs look the same to me," he lied. 

_ Yes, that’s right. You’re a stupid, punk kid. You don’t know anything.  _

"Well, believe me, those could pass for one of our girl’s litters. I do wonder how that could be?" 

His voice took on a dangerous edge, and Jack knew he'd better tread carefully. 

"Maybe they are," Jack suggested, hoping that showing agreement would make Mr. Snyder happy. 

"The ones I tossed might've floated down to their property an' David fished 'em out."

_ Yes, that sounds possible. Reasonable. Please, please believe it. _

"I suppose that would make sense," Snyder nodded, and Jack relaxed a little. 

"There is one thing I find very….interesting." He continued, terrifyingly casual. He grabbed Jack's arm. 

"The Jacobs' farm is upstream from us."

Jack's breath caught in his chest. 

"Well, may-maybe they aren't her puppies after all," he stammered weakly. 

Snyder glared at him, twisting his arm sharply until Jack gasped in pain. 

"Don't you lie to me, boy. I gave you a direct order, and you disobeyed me."

"Mr. Snyder, I-" a slap to the face interrupted Jack's weak defence. 

"You stop talking and listen." Jack clenched his teeth to keep from saying anything that would make it worse. 

"You will finish these dishes and put them away. Then you will wait for me in your room. I'll come in to deal with you when I'm ready." 

Jack's stomach flipped.

_ Deal with you.  _

"Yessir."

* * *

When Jack woke up, he wasn't sure where he was. 

It was dark, and he hurt all over, and he couldn't quite remember what had happened. 

He shifted up from his bed, answering the question of  _ where _ he was, but not what had happened to put him there. 

All he knew was that everything hurt, a dull pain radiating from his head and back. 

Oh. 

Yeah, that was what happened. 

Jack tried to stand up, but his ankle screamed in protest, so he flopped back in the bed. 

Mr. Snyder, no, Snyder, had been so, so angry. He didn't deserve to be called Mister. Not after that. Jack wouldn't respect him, or even pretend to. 

It  _ hurt _ . Jack had been beat on before, sure, but Snyder had apparently been angry about more than just the puppies, which he supposed made sense. It had been awhile since the man had gone after him, so he must have a lot of bottled up anger about every little thing, and they all just came out last night.

Was it last night? Maybe. How long had Jack been out? It was still dark, and he could hear the TV going down the hall. 

He had to get out. Away. Jack didn't know where he'd go, but he knew he couldn't stay here. 

He wasn't exactly in any condition to walk somewhere, though. Jack tested his legs again, and this time stayed standing. 

His ankle felt like it might be broken, but he could probably hobble.

If he went to the barn, got Dancer out…

But what then? Where would he go that nobody would look for him?

He definitely wouldn't get far like this. 

Well, Jack wasn't staying here, that was for sure. 

He limped around the room, gathering his few belongings and carefully packing them in his backpack. 

He made absolutely sure to secure his pencil case of important things, and then finally decided to swipe the blanket from his bed.

Skin off his back in exchange for a blanket. 

Jack would call that more than fair payment. 

The dark yard was chilly, and Jack could see the first signs of dawn on the edge of the trees beyond the nearest field. 

He'd have to hurry. 

Dancer snorted in surprise when she saw him, nickering softly and sniffling at his hair and bag. 

"I can't get your saddle on like this, girl. Think we can go bareback?"

He led her out of the barn, half walking, half leaning on Dancer's broad shoulder for support. 

Jack swung onto her back and rode off in the only direction he could think to go. 

David's family. 

Hopefully they wouldn't send him away.


	24. Leap of Faith

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is like, the end, but I'm also going to add an epilogue, probably in a few days, just showing a bit of a time jump to a few weeks after, and seeing how everyone is doing. 
> 
> I'm gonna be honest, I'm not happy with this fic, and I feel it could be much better.  
> I hope at some point to edit/rewrite and repost it, so I actually am proud of it, but for now, I'm going to leave it as is and focus on my other fic, which I'm a lot more passionate about. 
> 
> A huge thanks to everyone who has read this, I really appreciate it!
> 
> If you'd like, let me know your favorite aspects, so I know what worked well, to be sure to incorporate more of that when I rewrite it.

Sarah was usually the first one awake in the Jacobs household. She liked to watch the sunrise, and have just a little time to herself, without anyone else awake.

It was cold most mornings now, so she tugged on some thick socks and headed downstairs. 

The puppies whined from their kennel in the kitchen, tails wagging in excitement that someone was up to give them all the attention they deserved. 

Sarah released them from their nightly prison sentence and opened the door to the front porch so they could snuffle and sniff around like little black and brown hedgehogs. 

So far an average morning, so it was safe to say, Sarah was not expecting to see a horse on their front lawn, with a large, suspiciously human shaped lump in a heap right next to it. 

The puppies took notice, and immediately started yipping their little heads off, of course, and the lump on the ground shifted. 

"Sarah?"

"Jack?"

Sarah hopped down the stairs, taking no notice of the fact that her socks were getting all dewy and wet on the grass. 

"Jack, what happened?"

David's friend was a mess, all bruises and cuts, and he looked exhausted. 

"Nevermind, you don't have to answer. Let's get you inside."

Sarah helped Jack to his feet, and noticed he was definitely favoring his left leg. 

"Wait, Dancer."

So that was the horse's name. 

"Here, I'll take care of her," Sarah promised, settling Jack carefully on the porch steps, which had to be more comfortable than a heap on the ground, or at least drier. 

The pretty horse snorted curiously at Sarah, luckily unafraid of a stranger touching her. 

"Come with me, pretty girl. Let's get you someplace better than out here."

Thank goodness the horse was totally willing to follow on her own, since she had no tack on, and Sarah was pretty sure she couldn't make such a big, strong animal do anything she didn't want to do. 

Dancer was quickly settled in the pasture with the sheep, kind of a risk on Sarah's part, but the horse seemed calm enough not to cause problems. 

Besides, Jack pretty obviously needed help, and Sarah wasn't going to leave him waiting a moment longer.   
  


* * *

Jack took in the warm kitchen, looking at everything except the people around him. 

Sarah had brought him food, and a dry blanket, and helped clean up some of the blood and dirt.

That was nice enough, but of course, she also woke her parents, which was not quite as nice, in Jack's opinion. Well, it was nice, but he was very uncomfortable about it. 

At least Davey was here too, and Jack knew him a lot better than the rest of the family. 

Without even looking, he knew everyone was staring at him, watching to see what he would do. Well, Jack wasn't going to be the first one to talk, not in this situation. He had to know what they wanted first. 

"Jack."

Mrs. Jacobs' voice made him jump just a little, embarrassing as it was to admit. 

"What happened? We need to know."

Davey was looking at Jack intently, like he was an unfinished puzzle, nearly solved, but not quite. 

"Mr. Snyder. He did this."

It wasn't a question. 

David  _ knew. _

Jack didn't argue, and that was taken as confirmation. 

Mr. and Mrs. Jacobs looked... something. They didn't look happy, that was for sure, and Jack shifted uncomfortably under the looks he was getting, wincing at the stabbing pain in his foot. 

"Well…"

Mrs. Jacobs looked a bit at a loss. 

"I can leave," Jack said hurriedly, nearly falling over in an attempt to get up. 

"This was a bad idea, I'm sorry-"

"No!" David pushed him back down into the chair. 

"You're  _ not _ going back to  _ him. _ "

The disgust in Davey's voice was one of the most comforting things Jack had ever heard. 

"We're going to figure this out," Mr. Jacobs agreed, putting one hand on David's shoulder. 

"Is there anyone we should call for you, Jack?"

Jack took a deep breath, debating whether or not to tell the truth. Was it worth the risk? What if they sent him back? Or somewhere worse? Well, It could hardly get worse than broken bones. 

"My social worker, Miriam. I've got her phone number, here."  
  
  



	25. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> like i said, I'm planning to rewrite and repost this fic, but it'll probably be awhile since I've got two other fics i'm working on at the moment.  
> for now, here's an epilogue showing where the stories that i felt had loose ends ended up.

_ A Few months after the last chapter, idk man i just didn’t like ending it like that cause it felt sad and unfinished and my children deserve better _

Jack sat back on his heels, staring at the side of the big barn. Painting a full barn wall should have been a chore, but here, on Medda’s farm, it was just… fun. She wanted a mural, so he did a mural. Horses, of course, running into a sunset like fire. It was going to look so great when the sun really set in the sky behind it. 

Why Miriam couldn’t have put him here from the very beginning, Jack had no idea, but he was here now, and that was what mattered. 

“Jack, come inside! David’s here!”

When Medda called for him, Jack always came, but not because he had to. Here, he wanted to listen. Medda was everything Snyder hadn’t been. She didn’t shout, hit, or order him around. Everything was right. 

Jack cleaned up his paints quickly, putting everything back in the barn. He stopped to say hello to Dancer,  _ his  _ horse. All the livestock from the ranch had been auctioned (turned out Snyder had been breaking quite a few laws that Jack didn’t know about), and Medda bought Dancer, she bought the beautiful mare and gave her to Jack. Dancer was his forever. 

“Ready to traumatize Davey some more, pretty girl?” Dancer bobbed her head in what Jack assumed was agreement. 

She was a great lesson horse, thank goodness, because Davey was kind of hopeless on anything but his own two feet. 

Jack refused to let his friend go any more of his life without knowing how to ride a horse, even if he had to teach the other boy himself. And if that meant getting to put his hands on David’s to show him better technique, well, that was entirely coincidental. 

* * *

  
  


Finch flicked her hair out of her face, focusing on the road in front of her. Was driving Spot and Boots  _ technically  _ illegal, since she’d just gotten her license last week and was only supposed to be driving family members? Absolutely. 

But Mrs. Conlon had finally reached out to her son, after being in and out of rehab for the past few weeks. 

Finch looked into the rearview mirror and saw Spot fidget nervously. This wasn’t any official kind of visit, since nobody official even knew Spot had been staying with and technically been abducted by Finch’s family.

If things went wrong, they were on their own, in the park, with a recovering drug addict. 

How could this possibly end badly?

Finch parked the car under a tree, and waited for Spot and Boots to get out. Nobody moved. 

“You’re sure you want to do this?” Boots asked, looking to Finch for support. “We can just leave, she won’t find you.”

Spot took a deep breath. 

“I want to. Let’s go, before I change my mind.”

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

“Hey Ma. How are things?”

Finch made sure to keep her arms loose and casual, even though she really wanted to look threatening, to show Mrs. Conlon that she could and would punch her in the throat if she tried anything. 

“Sean, there’s so many things I want to say…” Mrs. Conlon’s eyes shone with tears, and Finch bit her tongue to keep from suggesting “sorry for being a dumpster fire of a mother” as a nice thing to start by saying. 

“Sean, I’m sorry. I can’t say it enough, but I’ll try. I’m so sorry, baby.”

Spot rubbed the back of his neck.

“Thanks Ma. You’ve been doing okay?”

Mrs. Conlon nodded eagerly, fidgeting like she really wanted to pull out a cigarette or blunt, anything to do with her hands. 

“I’ve been going to all those meetings, fixing up the house.”

_ House _ . That trailer was a joke of a house, but it wasn’t Finch’s job to say that. 

Mrs. Conlon hesitated for a moment before she spoke again. “If you wanted to come home…”

Spot stiffened. 

“Ma…”

“You don’t have to! It’s just if you want to, and not now, if you want to wait, it’s up to you, of course...”

She trailed off. 

Spot shifted, staring at the ground, the trees, anything but his mother. 

“I’d like to someday. Not now. Let’s just… we can wait and see. Do this,” he waved a hand around their awkward little football huddle in the gravel parking lot. “Again sometime?”

Finch wanted to cry at how little he sounded, and if Mrs. Conlon had done  _ anything  _ at that moment, she would have lost a limb or four.

Thank goodness she didn’t because hiding a body would be inconvenient.

“Of course. Maybe next Wednesday?”   
Spot shook his head.    
“Wrestling.”

Her face fell, and he quickly suggested, “Friday?”   
“Okay! Yes! I’ll be there. Sean, baby, I can’t say it enough, I’m just so sorry.”

He nodded stiffly, turning half to Finch. 

“Thanks Ma. We should be getting back, right Finch?” 

She nodded, taking in the confused pain mixed with hope in his eyes.

“I’ll bring you again Friday. Promise.”

Spot surprised everyone by wrapping his mother in a sudden, quick hug. 

“Bye, Ma. See you Friday.”   
  


**Author's Note:**

> I update approximately once every smurf moon. 
> 
> Will probably include Javid and Sprace, but like, I have legitimately 0 idea. Maybe I'll just leave Jack and David besties in this one. Who knows? Certainly not the author. 
> 
> I guess just lmk what you like or dont like, and we shall see where this goes.


End file.
